


The Bleeding Heart Left on the Shelf

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Coma, Frottage, Infidelity, M/M, Riding, alternative universe, bottom!Jared, hurt!Jensen, top!Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: A lot happens in nine years, everything in his life passing him by. When he wakes up after nearly a decade in a coma, he's mighty grateful for a second lease on life, but there’s far too much that’s changed, and yet so much that remains.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherie_morte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherie_morte/gifts).



> For 2018 [spn_j2_xmas](https://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/), for MY #1 CON BABE AND TRAVEL F(R)IEND AND CUCHARITA [Cherie_Morte](https://cherie-morte.livejournal.com/). 
> 
> Any medical details herein were obtained via google, meaning I spent anywhere from 2-5 minutes on a topic until I felt comfortable enough to write a few lines about it. And as far as the medical marvel contained within, it is [actually a thing that’s happening](https://labblog.uofmhealth.org/rounds/review-insomnia-medication-may-wake-up-some-patients-from-vegetative-state) … though, I admit, I am taking great liberties with the level of successful recovery going on here. 
> 
> Also, I know I’ve been on a huge ass James Bay kick for a long time now, but [Incomplete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jcn746NVJjg&index=8&list=PLfEz3oSx46Tzh62SHKIvfJJo5RIXfmZQ6) came on soon after I finished writing, and it just matches all too perfectly and thusly inspired the title.
> 
> Also, also, big love and thanks to [gluedwithgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold/pseuds/gluedwithgold) for brainstorming and beta <3

There is darkness. Like the depth of the ocean, this place is murky and muted, and strokes of white fight to be seen through the black. 

There is floating, drifting in the nothing that surrounds him. Weightless and placid, his limbs glide in water with no sense of movement. 

He can’t move. 

Can’t speak.

Can’t see through the shadows. 

He can’t make sense of up or down, left or right, in this hollow space.

Then suddenly, all so suddenly, there is feeling. A hand in his hair. Fingers pressing warm into his palm. Lips brushing his knuckles. 

The wet imprint of the kiss cools on his dry skin. It’s the last thing he has before sliding back under. 

 

*

 

The in-between is soft and warm, a hazy filter on weathered memories. 

Jared and Jensen hold close, arms wound around one another. They sway to the band in the corner entertaining the party with Christmas music adding to the Winter Wonderland theme for a December birthday. Nearly 100 people in the room and, for him, everything narrows into the spotlight illuminating the two, wrapped up in their own world.

Donna Ackles’ 60th birthday rings in with a surprise to the delight of all in attendance. Not least of all Jensen, the proud son who’d planned most everything. 

With the help of Jared, of course, who holds Jensen’s hand on the console between them as they head home that night. Jared kisses the back of Jensen’s wrist and grins at him, face lit by the blue tint of the dash. Their eyes share love and care, along with more mischievous thoughts for a happy ending on an already banner day. 

Sleet falls outside and they’re huddled together in the front seat. Jensen leans over and sets his mouth to Jared’s shoulder. It rests there for the next three seconds before they’re jolted apart by skidding tires on icy pavement with the jagged smash of metal on metal.

There is darkness again and the solid blare of a horn crying to save them all.

 

*

 

Beeping, content and steady, brings him forward. It echoes in his chest and trembles down his arm, through his palm, and out his pinky. He taps with the rhythm, slow and even, until it speeds up when he hears his name. 

A quiet sound, hidden by the quickening pounding at his temple and the rush of warm blood flooding his veins. 

There is warmth in his palm when he squeezes. His reward is a gasp and his name again. 

The water is thick now as he slogs through, rises to the surface where light is too bright to keep his eyes open. Dragging dead weight up, he finds the strength to grip the hand in his and pull it to his chest, hold it at his heart as he opens his mouth to speak. 

The sound is gravel in his throat, but it manages its way out.

“Jared.”

“Honey,” he hears, but not golden and sweet like it should be. It’s sad and dry, just like the touch to his face. 

When he finally wrenches his eyes open for more than a split second, he’s staring at the watery eyes of his mother. Her pink cheeks and shaky smile are hopeful and alarmed at the same time. 

He hears echoes of metal crunching and voices screaming. The crash plays in his ears even as he’s looking right into his mom’s flushed face. “Where’s Jared?” he asks with a panicky croak. His throat burns and his chest seizes to a coughing fit. 

She works the controls of the bed to get him upright and helps him with a cup of water and a tall straw. Her hand is soft and warm along the side of his head, fingers combing through his hair. 

Words are sluggish between his thoughts and mouth forming them. His throat constricts and he feels his way around the tube in his neck. He imagines it helps in some capacity, but right now it makes talking a real struggle. 

“What ... happened?” Jensen asks, even when he knows. He can still hear a hubcap spinning in the street and the horn’s incessant wail and the heavy scatter of sleet hitting pavement. 

“There was a car accident and you’ve been out for - ”

He brings a hand to her face and thumbs at the creases around her eyes. They’re deeper here than in his dreams. Or the memory of that night when she was radiant and carefree, surrounded by love. 

She looks tired, pale ... _old_. 

“How long?”

Glancing down to her hand in his, she presses her lips together. 

“How long?”

“Jensen,” she whispers, squeezing his hands together. “It’s been nine years.”

He blinks. At her. At nothing. 

He feels nothing, empty and lost. 

“How?” he asks and his throat burns a little less the more he uses it. 

 

*

 

Dr. Komensky, a tall, frail man with thick-rimmed glasses, stands at his bedside. A broad smile accompanies his summation of Jensen’s condition. His parents watch closely, awaiting the shock to crumble away to violence and anger. 

Jensen is tired, too tired to react as the doctor describes how the car had jumped after initial impact, rolling end over end with Jensen pinned inside. He was brought to the hospital with a broken neck, cracked ribs, ruptured spleen, not to mention fractures in his skull and blood on the brain. Hours upon hours of emergency surgeries, follow-up procedures, and a hell of a lot of waiting told them he would never wake. 

When his parents’ patience wore out, they transferred him to a rehabilitation and assisted living complex, where he’s been not-quite-living for eight years, 10 months, and 16 days. 

Whereas he fell unconscious just before Christmas 2009, he’s awake on January 28, 2019 with nothing but blanks to fill the space. 

“Like a Phoenix,” Dr. Komensky smiles with his bushy grey eyebrows wiggling high on his forehead. “You rose from the ashes of one hell of a coma.”

“Yeah, a damn superhero,” Jensen grunts out, setting his hand on his neck. A nurse disconnected the tracheostomy tube once they confirmed his vitals were good, but the valve is still there in his throat. 

The doctor grins and pats Jensen on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be a hero to a lot of folks around here.” 

“How the hell did I wake up?” He makes a face and closes his eyes briefly. The darkness and thick sludge of quicksand is a not-so-distant memory. “How did I _not die_?”

“It’s gonna sound crazy …”

Jensen is sure it couldn’t get much crazier than from the dead. 

“There have been some great results in treating immobile patients with zolpidem. Studies are few and far between, but when you’re looking for a Hail Mary at the two-minute warning, you try pretty much anything. The science of the brain is a tricky thing and sometimes medicines can behave exactly the opposite as intended. And so what is commonly used to treat insomnia has proven in rare cases for positive effects on paralysis or neurologic conditions.”

“Paralysis?” Jensen parrots blankly.

“Post-accident and under the coma … you were, in essence, in paralysis. But, you’re proving to be an excellent case of recuperation.”

_It’s ludicrous_ , he thinks, and he’s sure his face reads that way because his dad squeezes his shoulder with a reassuring look.

“It’s a medical marvel, I tell ya.” Dr. Komensky puts his hand out and nods. “But it sure is nice to finally meet you, Jensen.”

Jensen wants to roll his eyes at the man’s cheekiness, even considers grumbling about it, but the trache tube keeps him from making too much noise. When he prepares his words, he suddenly finds himself carefully smiling with an authentic, “Nice to meet you, too.”

 

*

 

There are more tubes and cords to remove, including one in a very delicate place that Jensen would like to forget. 

“Glad I wasn’t awake when it went _in_ ,” he says.

His dad gives an empathetic nod as he scruffs up Jensen’s freshly cut hair. “I have sympathy pains just thinking of it.”

His brother and sister rush in together, all but tackling him on the bed, slowing down when their mom cries out to be careful of his fragile state. 

Shadowing the excitement of Jensen’s resurrection is the reality of recovery. There’s a revolving door of therapists of all sorts - physical, occupational, speech, and psychiatry. His mom pockets all the business cards and sorts out a schedule of all the assessments for the coming days. 

Mackenzie cozies up to him, curling into the sliver of bed on his left while his mother continues to clutch his right hand like he’ll slide back into the coma without her touch keeping him present. Josh and his dad joke about how Jensen had the royal treatment even in his slumber with semi-regular haircuts and beard trims, yet they laugh at how young and fresh faced he looks now with a close shave. 

They all laugh over how roomy the space is without a whole bank of machines fluttering and beeping as they kept Jensen just barely there. The glow of his family’s happiness is a welcome feeling, familiar for how close they’ve always been. Still, Jensen can see the striking differences. 

He’d had to sneak his sister drinks at their mom’s surprise party, but now she’s tall and slim, confident and calm with the maturity of nearing her 30s. 

Josh’s hair is thinning with streaks of white around his temples and square glasses frame his eyes, telling more of his age nearing the big 4-0.

His parents are both worn down with wrinkles and full heads of grey and white, and Jensen frowns when he considers that’s all thanks to his near-decade of vegetation. 

The guilt of all he’s missed, the weight of what they’ve endured while he lay dormant, is too heavy on his heart and he falls into silence as they talk around him. Their voices are lively and fill the space, but he’s all too aware of the voice he’s missing most. 

At some point, he drifts off to sleep with his sister humming on about the corgi she recently adopted. 

 

* 

 

There is a lot of sleep. Even after all the years of slumber, his body can’t manage to keep up the energy to last more than an hour or so before begging for relief. Add on therapy appointments, Dr. Komensky coming by every day for up to an hour at a time, a barrage of tests and nurses waking him for vital checks … the first week of his new life flies by before he knows it. 

The second week carries much the same, but he’s no longer bitter and angry at his systems for slowing down when he needs rest. Every moment of each day is carved into the few waking hours he can cobble together and he gets through the night with a full 12 to 14 hours of sleep. 

His mother tells him he’s never looked better, but he thinks she’s biased. When he looks in a mirror, he’s startled to see the sunken eyes and cheeks, along with the sharp, thin lines of his jaw. He’s got to eat something and hopefully not from the tube in his stomach flushing him with an all-liquid diet. 

Still, he appreciates the fresh air in his lungs and the ability to choose when his eyes open and close. 

 

*

 

The psychiatrist, _Dr. Maria_ she insists, spends a lot of time talking about how to manage expectations. For himself, his family, other loved and cherished ones. 

Jensen immediately jumps to Jared, feeling all of 10 years old waiting for presents on Christmas morning. And he supposes that for all he’s now facing the back end of his 30s, his brain, and all its memories, is stuck back in his 20s. 

“I need to see him so bad,” he says with a wistful smile. “I mean, the last thing I know of before the accident is him. His face and his smile.” After a moment, Jensen brings his palms together, fingers curling around the side, and drifts off. “His hand.” 

Dr. Maria, with her short dark bob and equally dark eyes, takes a few seconds to let him _feel through the moment_. He’d roll his eyes if he weren’t, in fact, constantly falling into every single moment that lives so clearly in his mind, even when they happened before the turn of the decade. 

“I know it sounds stupid. I feel stupid.” Jensen shakes his head with a tiny laugh. “But it’s all I want. To see him and smile with him and go back home with him. Just go back to how everything was instead of sticking around this place forever.” A beat later, he adds, “No offense.”

With a level smile, she nods. “None taken.” Still, Dr. Maria tips her head to regard him and shifts in her arm chair, a soft creamy tan facing the dark chocolate sofa Jensen sinks into.

He’s sure this is all part of the rouse, to draw him into the comfort of the cushions so he drifts on and bares all. Meanwhile, she’s seated upright, professional, in her firm seat. And the way she’s eying him, he’s sure she’s about to contemplate something that will crack him wide open.

“Jensen, I think there is nothing wrong with having these kinds of feelings. Because your feelings are yours. You own them and they’re natural responses to all that you’re going through …”

“However,” he says slowly. 

“ _However_ ,” Dr. Maria smiles gently with a subtle nod. “You have a very unique situation here, having woken up with all of your memories intact. You see everything so clear and vivid from back then. But, your friends and family have had a lot of time pass between then and now. And we need to prepare you to handle that distance.”

Jensen sits up, pushing into the cushions that give under his frail arms. He knows what she’s saying makes sense, so much perfectly understandable. There’s just the problem of actually knowing what to do with it. 

“And for that, I think we should work through some exercises of how you can handle any gaps between the types of reactions you’re expecting when you face your friends and what they may be experiencing.”

“For Jared,” he adds like a question, because he recognizes it’s his biggest concern in this whole conversation. “How to deal with Jared not reacting how I want him to,” Jensen works out to her satisfied smile. Then things go a little sideways. “Is he not going to be happy to see me? Is that why he hasn’t come yet?”

Dr. Maria takes a long breath and Jensen finds himself doing the same with the long pause in conversation. It settles him for a moment and maybe that was her intention all along. “I don’t have any information on Jared and all that he’s been through. But I think it is reasonable to expect that a lot has changed for him in nine years and that it will be an exceptionally emotional moment for him to see you. That’s a possible reason he hasn’t come yet.”

His mind spins through an imagined reunion of Jared running into the room, pulling Jensen into his arms, and vowing to never let go. Ugly crying and rambling and all sorts of nonsense to make up for lost time. 

And then it morphs into something possibly a bit more realistic of Jared cautious and slow at the doorway, tentative to stand too close, as if this isn’t all happening. Scared the moment they’re in each other’s spaces, everything will crumble to dust with Jensen remaining in that hospital bed, tubes and wires coming from every inch of his body. 

“Jensen?” Dr. Maria asks gently. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking …” His breath comes out ragged and wet, and he thinks he may cry under the pure uncertainty of Jared’s reaction to see him. “That I’m afraid. When I think about it, about him coming. But also, what if he doesn’t …”

Her polite and confident mask slips and she frowns with a sad tilt to her eyes. “Oh, Jensen, I did not mean to scare you. But let’s talk through that some more.”

It isn’t ideal, to dig into the bleak space of his thoughts, but Jensen’s thankful when she pulls them out and he can finally see them in the light, where many dissipate until he’s left with something more solid. A game plan, of sorts, to practice patience with all that comes before him.

 

*

 

In his fits of sleep, he dreams of _before_. When he was young and nimble, playing soccer and baseball throughout grade school and high school. When he stretched out late nights to bar hop and party in college. When he could stay on his feet for hours on end as a gym teacher and assistant pitching coach at Mundelein High School. 

He dreams of Jared tugging him out of his hospital bed, dragging him to any one of these events and pushing him out onto the field, onto their tiny balcony for grilled brats and a cold bottle of beer, and up on stage for drunken bouts of karaoke. 

He sees Jared with vibrant youth and boundless energy as he runs everywhere. Hears that bright laughter that charmed Jensen the first time they met in the bleachers of a night ball game at Wrigley. Feels the way those large, bear-like paws always wrapped around Jensen’s, fingers firm and hot like a brand against his skin. 

Sometimes, he thinks he’s not dreaming when he squeezes back. Wonders if he’s not imagining the heat of Jared’s palm tucked against his late at night when he’s too tired to open his eyes. Too afraid to wake to an empty room and an emptier heart waiting to beat for a glimpse of the love of his love.

 

*

 

By week three, he’s noticing even the slightest bit of improvement when his arms do what he tells them to, even if it’s just short movements and minor reaches. In his few waking hours, he’s more alert and talkative, no longer feels left behind when his mom talks about their Valentine’s Day dinner over the weekend, or his brother wails on about how Jensen missed nothing with the Bears’ poor showing in the playoffs, or even when Mackenzie delights in showing off every picture she snaps of her dog, named Ross in memoriam. 

A few friends make it ‘round, but the excitement of their visits tend to wear him out quickly, especially when they swing by in the later hours after long days of work. 

There are minor setbacks and disappointments in a variety of ways, physical and emotional. 

Yet they all pale in comparison when he asks after Jared and the family continues to insist he’s been by to visit. Mostly after hours while Jensen sleeps, because he has a job and other obligations, his mom tells him. 

She pulls at his hand, gripping tight and smiling with shared heartbreak for Jensen’s poor soul. “I promise you, he has been here.”

 

*

 

His physical therapist, Maggie, always wears him out first thing in the morning. She stretches his arms and legs, bends at the joints, and moves swiftly like he’s a rag doll. Then lingers close when he fights his way through his solo exercises and he side eyes her for being too nosy. 

After, she wheels him back to his room. He’d first scoffed at the ride, but once he discovered the full atrophy of his limbs, he was pretty accomodating to how the staff wanted to baby him. 

He’s still plenty put out when she insists their sessions will get easier if keeps up the hard work. 

She promises, “Soon it won’t just be wearing you out. It’ll get the endorphins flowing and jazz up your energy, which is the primary objective of your recovery after all.”

“And how long is this recovery?” Jensen asks, not even trying to hide the scowl because she can’t see his face anyway.

“As long as it takes,” she replies, swatting his shoulder, because he couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. “I usually tell my patients it can take up to three times as long as you were out of commission to get back in working order. Your case is … special.”

Nine years asleep, no matter how many times nurses and his family helped spin him around to avoid bed sores and aid blood flow, means Jensen’s muscles are little more than spaghetti al dente. He sure hopes he doesn’t have to wait until he’s in his 50s to walk.

He falls quiet as numbers flash behind his eyes and he remembers he’s no longer 26. 

“You okay?” Maggie asks as she slows the chair around the corner to his room. 

“I’m 35 now,” Jensen sighs. “Guess I have to get used to math again.”

“Yeah, I bet. But you’ve got a lot going for you and if you …”

Her voice goes into an empty void as Jensen’s breath catches at the familiar sight of long legs, broad shoulders, and messy brown hair hovering just outside his room.

Jensen pushes himself up in the wheelchair. Overcome with a burst of frenzied love, he gets his feet down on the patchwork tile when the space from here to there seems to stretch from just thirty or so feet into a mile. His feet barely slide an inch and his knees buckle, and he’s suddenly thankful of Maggie’s habit of hovering because she gets him back in the chair before Jared turns around. 

That damn hair is soft and floats through the air as he spins around. It’s longer than Jensen remembers, slanting in layers and waves around his face and down the back of his neck when a hand runs through it. 

Tell-tale sign of nerves and Jensen is full of happy laughter that his boy is still that rattle of jittery energy. The week leading up to the birthday party, Jared had been bent over thick texts next to his computer as he drafted the first cut of his dissertation, in between tugging at his hair and wearing treads in the rug of their living and dining rooms when he could no longer sit still. 

Now, Jared is towering high above Jensen down in his seat, with his impossibly long body a little less lanky and a bit more full with grown-up muscles and well-fitted clothes. Jensen thinks about curling into himself with his simple white undershirt and blue scrub bottoms while Jared’s frame perfectly wears dark jeans, a soft brown sweater, and a heavy black peacoat. 

His face has aged, too, and Jensen blinks away tears when he misses the boyish glow of his Jared, yet simultaneously heats up with the appreciation for the all the ways he’s grown. Including the dark shadow of a beard growing in. 

When they’re left with thick silence, Jensen’s skin itches and a hundred different things run through his head. There is so much that he wants to say, so many details and proclamations of love, and yet he is listening to Dr. Maria in his head. Practicing patience and allowing Jared to work through this, too.

Still, once Jared opens his mouth to talk, Jensen flinches forward to drink up every word.

“Jesus,” Jared whispers, his mouth hanging as he stares. 

“No, just Jensen,” he jokes in return. He smiles and breathes deep as he continues watching all the ways Jared is all new. 

“This is fucking crazy,” Jared laughs to himself. He shakes his head and closes his eyes with great effort before looking at him again. “When you’re awake … It’s like you haven’t aged a day.”

“A lot of R&R in that coma.” Now he’s blinking away tears to hear the roughness of Jared’s voice, no longer loose and bright. So full of youth and energy, he was. Jensen clears his throat and murmurs, “Look at you,” taking him in from head to toe again. “You’re like … bigger, older … _sexier_. I can’t stop looking at you.” 

He really can’t stop and lovingly observes how Jared chuckles quietly and shoves his hands into the pockets of his heavy coat, pulling at the edges to cover himself up. How Jared tips his head down and hair falls around his shy smile, dimples loud and proud on his cheeks. How he licks the corner of his mouth and bites his tongue for a second before righting himself to be more composed and face Jensen again.

Jensen grips the wheelchair’s armrests and squeezes, fingers digging into the underside of the cushion. Back then, he’d spent countless hours imagining how they’d age together, growing old side by side, hand in hand. Those fuzzy dreams don’t amount to anything like the real deal standing before him. “It’s just like you … but not you.” 

“And you,” Jared says on a hushed breath. “I still remember when you were …” He motions at his own face with his fingers, then seems to think twice on it and aborts the movement, tucking his hand back into coat. 

“Yeah, I bet,” Jensen admits with a sad smile. His parents have told him stories and Dr. Komensky shared x-rays, CAT scans, and MRIs to fill in the details, but nothing matches where his imagination runs for how tore up his body must’ve been. 

He shakes away the thoughts, and checks over his shoulder to see Maggie back near the turn in the hallway, thankfully giving them some space. She perks up and comes right back to them with a happy, “You ready to head in?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’m sorry.”

Maggie rolls her eyes and pushes him inside with a tsk. “No need for apologies.”

Jensen recognizes he’s been apologizing a lot lately. To his parents, brother, sister, staff, friends who have swung by. As if he’s everyone’s burden to serve, even when it’s their job or love keeping them around, not to mention he has no way to help himself yet. There’s still the shame of being an invalid, especially now in front of Jared. 

She helps him to sit on the bed, but he stops her there. Not just to avoid further shame, but so he can be a little closer to Jared. As soon as she’s gone, Jensen summons him closer with his arms held up the few inches he can. “C’mere.”

Jared stutters a step or two then all but falls into Jensen as they clutch at one another. 

Jensen is wholly buried in a hundred sensations. The warmth of Jared’s embrace, the hard bulk of his body, the scent all around him, the silk of the long tendrils sliding in Jensen’s fingers when he powers on to reach up Jared’s neck and hold close. He turns his face into Jared’s shoulder and further in to kiss his throat and stay there with the roughness of the new beard against his skin. The roughs scrape is a little nice, Jensen thinks, as it grounds him in the present. 

One of Jared’s hands cups the back of Jensen’s head as he, too, sets a kiss to Jensen’s jaw. His body is taken with tremors as he pulls away, coughing through emotion bubbling to the surface, and his eyes shining with unshed tears. He clears his throat as he backs up then focuses on pulling a chair over to sit and tucks his hands back into his jacket. Pulling in on himself, he looks all of 23 again, even with the obvious changes in every other way. 

“So, how are you?” Jared asks with a tipsy slant of his mouth and shrug. “You feeling okay?”

Jensen wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm and breathes deep before slapping both hands down on his knees. “Feeling pretty damn good, all things considered.” He laughs at himself and Jared does as well. 

“You look pretty good,” Jared agrees with a shaky smile. “All things considered.”

He blushes a little, dipping his chin down with a quick breath. His throat is thick and scratchy like the day he woke up, only there is no tube, just stitches and a scar to come. He thinks to cover his neck, as if Jared couldn’t have already spotted the bandages, then considers that he’s alive and conscious, and that’s enough for them both. Instead of explaining it all, he’d rather let Jared talk. He’s missed hearing Jared talk; the kid always said so much with his voice, his hands, those crystal clear, expressive eyes … “But what about you? Tell me everything.”

Jared bites his tongue with an awkward smile forming around it. “I mean, where do I even start?”

“I don’t know! Just …” Jensen shakes his head and finds himself grinning despite their morbid situation. “Start at the beginning, I guess? I want to hear everything about _you_.” He then feels a burst of joy bubble up and he claps his hands with nervous energy. “So, are you a big bad archeologist now? Killed your dissertation and now you’re digging around for the Holy Grail, right? Or running things at the Field Museum?”

Shaking his head, Jared shifts forward in his seat. He leans a little over his knees and folds into himself again. Hiding who knows what and why. “No, not quite. Never finished the dissertation.”

Jensen’s heart nearly stops. “What?”

He doesn’t quite meet Jensen’s eyes as he admits, “Other things kinda got in the way.”

Like the accident, and Jensen practically dying. Jensen blinks away tears as he remembers how passionate and eager Jared had been in his work.

“But I am teaching,” Jared explains. “I went into education and now I’m a history teacher at New Trier.”

“Fancy,” he breathes out in wonder. The thought makes him dizzy, all the paths Jared has taken while Jensen slept. “Of course you are. So freaking smart and now you’re at one of the best high schools in the entire state.” He stops short of shaking his head when his vision blurs and he has to rub at his eyes. “I am not surprised one bit.”

“Shut up.” He slants a look up, smirking at Jensen before his eyes widen and he sits up. “You okay? You’re looking pretty pale now.”

Jensen covers his face to hide a yawn and does all he can to fight the oncoming exhaustion. “Yeah, I’m just … mornings are hard. You’d think it’d be easy, but Maggie’s a beast.”

“I can head out. Let you rest.”

“You’re finally here,” Jensen bursts out with harsh laughter. “And now you’re gonna leave?”

“I’ve been …” Jared frowns and pushes hair behind his ear. His voice is low and forcefully steady when he talks again. “I’ve come to see you. You’re usually sleeping.”

Something grips at Jensen’s heart and it pumps quick and hard. “You didn’t wake me up?”

“Christ,” he huffs. “You were out for _nine years_ , I’m not gonna push your luck and wake you up. Your mom said you still sleep a lot as you recover.”

“Then why not come when I _am_ awake?”

“I’ve tried.” Jared takes a deep breath and lifts his chin with confidence, yet can’t meet Jensen’s eyes. “I have a job and I can’t just skip out whenever I want. I’ve come when I can. Please don’t make me feel guilty about that.”

Guilt.

Jensen knows that feeling well, talks _a lot_ with Dr. Maria about all the guilt hanging from his shoulders. He’s been swimming in it since he woke up and constantly reminded of all that has or hasn’t happened while he was gone. His parents had to put retirement on hold, sold their five-bedroom duplex in Barrington, and abandoned the upper-middle-class life for a one-bedroom apartment close to the assisted living complex in the far north suburbs. His brother and sister joined the cycle of visitation to relieve their parents and so that someone was there at least once a week to hold his hand, brush his hair, say his name, talk and read aloud and complain and sing songs and do everything they could so he heard a familiar voice while he was lost to the empty. 

They don’t say the word, or anything close to it, but he feels it when details slip through about all they’ve done these nine years. There is no way he wants to share the weight of it with Jared. Not when he’s back and able to look at that face with the rush of care and affection flooding his body. 

“I’m sorry. I guess I still get cranky when I’m tired. Some things never change, huh?”

Jared shrugs a little and looks at his feet. 

Jensen murmurs, “Come here,” holding his hands up. 

Shuffling forward, Jared slips into Jensen’s embrace and hugs him fiercely for a paltry few seconds before pulling back. “I’m sorry, too,” he says with a scratch to his voice. “For getting mad about it. I don’t have any idea what you've been going through.”

Jensen shakes his head with a sad smile. He powers through the tired strain to reach up to Jared’s face and palm his cheek. “And I have no clue what you’ve been through all these years. But we’re here now.”

Jared looks him in the eye, that deep connection still drawing them together. Slowly, a smile lifts his face and he breathes deep, those wide shoulders heaving a decade of emotion. “Still can’t believe you’re here.”

He runs his fingers over the coarse hair at Jared’s jaw. “And I can’t believe you have a beard.”

Jared chuckles shly and steps back. “That is more about laziness than making a statement. It’s been a crazy few weeks.”

“You’re telling me,” Jensen laughs. 

“I can’t even imagine.”

He considers sharing with Jared the haze of the last few weeks, the now-scheduled naps in between rounds of therapy and tests as doctors cycle in and out to witness the modern medical phenomenon that is Jensen’s awakening. Just thinking about it all makes his head spin and he stifles a yawn.

“And on that note,” Jared says firmly. “I’m leaving.”

Jensen latches on to the front of Jared’s coat and tugs him forward. “When will I see you again?” He blinks up at him, hopeful and nearly begging because this fraction is not nearly enough to make up for lost time.

“Soon.”

“I’m glad you made it today.” 

“You can thank Presidents Day for this visit.”

Jensen smiles. “I’ve never appreciated our presidents enough.” He nods with certainty so Jared knows he means it, despite the bitter resentment that had reared its ugly head. “I’m _so happy_ to see you.”

In the middle of a shaky smile, Jared’s phone buzzes, muffled in a pocket, and he tucks his hand into his jacket yet doesn’t do much else. Aside from frowning a little and sighing. “I should go.”

“Okay,” he whispers then pulls Jared down and leans up to set their mouths together. It’s a firm press of lips and Jensen holds him in place as warmth spreads all over. The shape of Jared’s kiss is wider than he remembers, but the slide of their noses together is a welcome, familiar feeling. 

Jared rests his forehead to Jensen’s with his fractured breath coasting over Jensen’s face. On a final huff, he mutters, “Okay, I’m going now,” and shifts away.

“Love you,” Jensen calls out when Jared reaches the door.

Jared hovers for a long moment before glancing over his shoulder with an even longer look. He’s pained and tense, and Jensen can’t fathom what Jared lived through for all these years thinking this was out of reach. He finally says, “Me, too,” then leaves with swift steps echoing in the hallway.

The rush of Jared’s visit drains quickly and Jensen calls for the nurse to get him into bed, where he can’t wait for new dreams of Jared. This new Jared with growth and age turning Jensen’s charming, pretty boyfriend into the gorgeous shape of a man.

 

*

 

Jensen likens it to a parolee when he’s discharged from this medical prison a few weeks later. 

He’s nowhere near healed, still relies on the wheelchair for most transportation. He is, however, building up stamina to manage a rolling walker for shorter stints and he’s on a prescription program to boost his organs into improved functionality. He’s finally allowed to transition a few soft foods into his diet, is able to dress himself, albeit slowly and with some difficulty, and has graduated from the facility’s motorized bed to a stable twin in the second bedroom of the new apartment his parents secured in a building with ADA regulations. Namely, and most importantly, an elevator. 

Thanks in no small part to no longer paying the monthly bill to keep him on round-the-clock assistance, the financial burden on his parents is significantly reduced. Along with the commitment to sit vigil at his bedside during regulated visitors hours. 

Emotions are infinitely high when he’s settled into their new home and receives daily visits from a home health nurse to check his levels, observe his prescriptions for any and all side effects, and help him manage the roving schedule of continued therapies. Private medical transport gets him to and from the rehabilitation complex, and he’s continually smiling when realizes his road to recovery means never having to visit the assisted living sector, though he finds himself visiting his old nurses on occasion. There’s the added comfort of having space and freedom to roam the apartment. Even when it’s not much for now, it’s infinitely better than being cooped up in the sterile-white environment he’s had for longer than he likes to count. Not to mention going outside in the sunlight and, though February around Chicago can be the harshest part of winter, the cool wind in his face does wonders. 

And the first time Jared joins them for dinner, flashing a nervous smile and a bouquet of roses for Jensen’s mom, Jensen’s stomach spirals with a flurry of memories from when they were dating and survived first dinners with the parents.

 

* 

 

Admittedly, Donna Ackles is no longer the Betty Crocker-Food Network maven she once was. She apologizes when serving a simple fare of chicken breasts with instant mashed potatoes and gravy from a package, but his dad hushes her quickly and raves about how great it all looks. 

“Things have been a little crazy for us all for a long time. Dinner hasn’t been a priority for a while,” she says quietly, looking around the table, avoiding each of them. Clearing her throat, she pushes back the emotion and offers Jensen a tender smile. “But there’s plenty of time now to make up for it.”

Jensen makes a face, also swallowing down the emotion, and tries to wave it off. “It’s surely better than food in a tube,” he jokes. “Thank you, Mom.”

Her eyes brighten up as he turns to his dad and Jared. “Okay, eat up, fellas. For once, I’m excited to not have leftovers.”

The potatoes and gravy are the bulk of Jensen’s dinner and he eats far slower than the rest of them, but that gives him ample time to listen to every detail Jared reveals when asked about work. 

Throughout the meal, Jared fiddles with his hands, fingers rubbing over knuckles. When Jensen’s parents notice and share a look, keeping so much said beneath the surface, Jared drops his hands to his lap and asks them more questions about what they’re up to now that they have a bit of peace and time.

Aside from quick questions to get other conversations going, Jared goes quiet. Far more quiet than Jensen had ever witnessed. He thinks back to how reserved and guarded Jared was in his visit at rehab, and he replays so many of his conversations with Dr. Maria. The key is patience, but so is Jensen making an effort to let Jared know that he understands, so he reaches for Jared’s hand beneath the table and looks him in the eye when he threads their fingers together. He rubs his thumb over the back of Jared’s hand and gives him a soft smile, murmurs, “It’s okay.”

Jared is slow to react, turning ever so slightly to return the smile and squeeze Jensen’s hand. 

It’s progress, and if Jensen’s learning anything in his recovery, any second of improvement is still an improvement. 

 

*

 

After dinner, Jensen is tired. He’s still always so tired, yet he’s full on happiness of spending an hour or so with three of his favorite people. 

And when Jared is ready to head out, suggesting Jensen should rest and that he has his own things to take care of, Jensen offers to walk him out. He needs to stretch his time with Jared, no matter how much Jared insists he’s fine on his own.

With the aid of the walker, Jensen joins Jared in the hallway, grateful they have privacy. His parents are so perfectly helpful and kind, stepping in when he needs an extra hand to get in and out of bed, for something in the fridge, or even to settle into the couch to watch TV with the remote and a drink in reach. But he’s also well aware of how small the apartment is and where he was fiercely independent in his youth, he’s had to get used to having someone always at his shoulder, waiting for the right moment to step in. 

He moves to the bench in the elevator lobby, urging Jared to join him. “Thank you for coming tonight,” Jensen murmurs when they’re settled in, side by side. Building up the nerve to make his piece, he leans into Jared’s side and kisses his shoulder, keeps his mouth against the coat covering Jared. “I know this has been hard for everyone. I know it’s hard for you.” 

Jared’s shoulders rise with a rough breath. “Yeah. It’s all so …”

“New,” Jensen offers. “I know it’s new for you.” He slides his hand into Jared’s and looks up at him, once again stunned at all that has changed, where Jared has aged and matured. He doesn’t care that this is a different version, it’s still Jared. “I just want you to know that it’s all the same for me. I still love the hell out of you. That’s never gonna change.”

Fingers flexing against Jensen’s, Jared nods slowly. His eyes water and he gulps, going otherwise completely still. 

“And I can wait for you. I’ve been practicing a hell of a lot of patience-”

A laugh bubbles up and Jared gives him a watery smile. “Really?”

Jensen widens his eyes comically. “I know. It’s a big change for me.”

“You’re the guy who counted down the seconds for the delivery guy.”

“Pizza is very important to me, okay?” Then he groans and closes his eyes. “Man, I miss pizza.” Squeezing Jared’s hand, he grins at him. “Once I can manage more than a cup of mashed potatoes, we’re hitting up Pequod’s and getting double pepperoni.”

“It might be a long time ‘til you can stomach deep dish. Literally.”

“Practicing patience,” Jensen reminds him, faking a serious, serene tone. Then he does turn back to the subject with an even look. “But really, all I want is to get better and come back home. My parents are great, and they’re doing so much and I love them, but all I want is to get back to you and be home.”

“Jensen, I …” Jared turns his head down, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I’ll be patient,” he vows. 

“I don’t live in that apartment anymore.”

It shouldn’t be a shock, Jensen knows it shouldn’t, yet here he is stunned to silence. So much is different, and he doesn’t know any of it. 

“I’m sorry, but I -“

“Where do you live now?” Jensen asks with amazing poise.

“I have a house, in Wheeling.”

It’s not the other side of region, but he knows it’s a bit of a drive from where they are now, and surely a world of difference from their humble apartment on the Lower West South Side of Chicago. 

“I have so much to learn about you,” Jensen whispers, his stomach dropping. His mind spins with the effort to figure out where to begin. And how.

Jared bites the inside of his cheek and Jensen’s can’t stop watching him in profile, words swirling around to assure Jared that he’s fit for the task to get to know this version of him and get them back to where they were. Who they were, together. 

“Jared,” he murmurs, leaning into him again. Once he has his attention, Jensen brings his hand up to his face, thumb sliding over the curve of his cheek. “I want to know everything about this version of you.”

He turns to Jensen with sorrow filling every inch of him. “You don’t want to know.”

That makes him pull back, yet bring Jared with him, because he can’t let go of him. Refuses to. “What do you mean?” He laughs awkwardly. “Why don’t I want to know?”

“Just, so much, everything has changed,” Jared says. “ _Everything_. I mean, after the accident. I just …” He closes up, shaking his head and stuttering through whatever it is he’s trying to say. 

“What?” he tugs on Jared’s hand for more, nearly begging, “After the accident, what?”

“You have no idea how … no idea how hard that was,” he finally admits quietly, clenching his eyes shut. “How long I … I was in a really bad place.”

“Why are you …” Tears build in Jensen’s eyes and for once, since he woke up, he’s not ashamed for the overflow of emotions. This is Jared sitting in front of him, his Jared, though so very changed, and he will do anything to alleviate his pain. “What happened?”

Jared looks him in the eye, tears matching the ones threatening to fall from Jensen’s eyes. “I am _so sorry_.”

“You can’t be sorry.” Jensen shakes his head, doing his best to assure him with a firm voice. “It’s not your fault.”

“I was driving. I didn’t see that truck and I -”

“Stop right now,” Jensen nearly shouts, pain and anger bubbling to the surface. Not just for him and his own predicament, but for Jared and all he’s endured. “I don’t blame you.”

“You spent nine years in a coma,” Jared stresses. “And now you’re here, and you want everything like it was. But it’s not. It’s not like it was. And I’m sorry about that, too.”

He pulls Jared to him, both hands on his neck, forcing them to look each other in the eye. “So long as I have you, I can deal with all the changes. I _want_ to learn to deal with it all. Because I love you. And because what I can’t do is be here without you.”

Jared’s anguish is palpable, makes him tremble and Jensen can feel it in his fingers. “Jen, you just …”

“I just need you,” Jensen insists then pulls Jared in for a kiss. 

A decade or not, Jensen’s mind is still firmly planted in 2009 when he knew exactly how to kiss Jared to alleviate all of his stress and fears, so he goes for it. Pushes his way inside Jared’s mouth, slides deep to distract him from all of his worries, and drags his hands over Jared’s jaw, fingers slipping into his hair to massage behind his ears. Jensen skates his hands down to his neck and holds, thumbs pressing at the corner of his jaw as he pulls back, lips slick against Jared’s as they pop apart. 

Jensen sets a soft kiss to the corner of Jared’s mouth, staying close and breathing the same air. “We’ll be okay when we’ve got each other in all of this.”

Jared’s hand settles on Jensen’s chest and Jensen’s heart kicks up a few extra beats. Just for Jared, and Jensen hopes he can feel that, knows it deep in his bones that this heart has always beat just for him. So he rests his hand over Jared’s and holds it tightly in place. 

Nudging his nose with Jensen’s, Jared brushes their lips together. He lets out a loud inhale once he’s shifting back. “I should go.”

They’re quiet as they stand and head to the elevator. Jensen believes he’s said enough and treasures the way Jared won’t let go of his hand. Not even when Jared drags his fingers across Jensen’s as he steps into the elevator and stares right at him until the doors close and Jensen’s left alone. 

He steadies his breathing as he watches the numbers above count down, the car bringing Jared to the first floor and away. Then he smiles as he imagines watching them count up to the fifth floor when Jared next comes to visit.

 

*

 

Jared is tan all over with the sun streaming in. He always turns honey brown in the summer, shirtless and bare to the bright sun. Jensen’s light skin is a stark contrast when he places his hand on Jared’s shoulder, runs it up to his neck as Jared lowers himself into this morning kiss. 

Stretching out with Jared in bed on a lazy Sunday is one of Jensen’s favorite activities. They have nowhere to be and Jared wastes time drawing random lines across Jensen’s body with the heat of his palms. It’s especially tranquil when his finger slides along Jensen’s forehead, erasing the lines between his brows, and Jensen nearly crosses eyes as he watches Jared’s work. 

The tip top of his finger glides down Jensen’s nose and Jensen shivers with the calm on Jared’s young face, so tender and careful as he bites his tongue when his finger slips over the curve of Jensen’s mouth. 

“I love this face,” Jared murmurs, “And this nose, this mouth …” His finger drags down the hollow of Jensen’s neck and his chest, his eyes following the trail. 

Jensen shivers again even when he tries to be so still in Jared’s early morning devotion, and Jared is broken from his spell to aim a warm smile his way. He sets his finger between Jared’s brows and tracks down Jared’s nose, going just as slowly as Jared had. Further over his mouth and then under Jared’s chin and he tucks his finger in to pull Jared close for another kiss. 

The sun moves across the sky and now it angles through the window and right in Jensen’s eyes. Light bursts across the room so it’s all yellow light and Jensen drifts off with just the feel of Jared’s fingers dancing on his shoulder. 

 

*

 

In the morning, Jensen is drained, worn out from the mess of emotions that fought their way out after dinner. 

A hot shower will soothe his aches and pains, both real and imagined, so he heads for the bathroom after sleeping in. His parents are just about to head out for Saturday morning groceries when his dad turns back down the hallway to follow Jensen. 

“You need help, bud?”

“No, I’m fine,” he sighs.

“You don’t sound fine.”

Jensen limps into the bathroom, leaving his walker in the hall when he struggles to angle it through the door. “Just tired. Gonna shower.”

His dad hovers in the hallway, watching, seeming to wait until he needs to move in. 

“Go. Unless you wanna watch.” 

“Still grumpy as ever before coffee,” his dad smarts. 

Jensen snorts as he leans into the shower to fiddle with the temperature. “Gotta figure out how to do this on my own at some point, right?”

“If you’re sure?”

He waves him off and once his dad is out of sight, he undresses while leaning heavily on the sink when his legs start to drag, slow and weak. Just a few more seconds and he’ll reach his shower chair and sit under the water, relish the steam to relieve the tension keeping his joints tight. 

Only, he doesn’t quite get there and as he loses his balance, he hears his dad shouting for him in the coming darkness. 

 

*

 

He’s dancing with Jared again. Under the soft lights in the ballroom, they’re tucked in together, smiling and laughing, and he feels the rise and fall of Jared’s chest to his. The words are muffled, but the melody is clear as they rock back and forth, and Jensen’s lips move with the wordless messages of the ballad. 

He’s singing for Jared, to Jared, and giving over his heart with every beat because he knows that this is it. This is the end of his search and the beginning of the rest of his life as he rests easy in the arms of the man he’s loved for three years, lived with for the past nine months, and dreams of every day and night. 

He’s smiling up into Jared’s face and holding him closer, begging him in this soft silence to be with him every step of the way. Jared sets his hand to Jensen’s cheek and shares the smile that warms his face and glistens in his eyes as they share the moment of an imagined eternity. 

He’s Jared’s, and Jared is his as the dance drags on into the next song and Jensen inches even closer so they’re sharing the same breath. He sees every angle of Jared’s face, the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the thin jaunt of his chin, the slope of his nose and the slant of his eyes, and Jensen’s favorite, the dimples creasing with his content, carefree smile.

And now he’s waking to that hand on his cheek, the long fingers spaced over the side of his head, and the face right there.

Only, there are sharper cuts to the cheekbones and a longer slope of his nose, eyes set deep and tired. The dimples are there, though, as the thin lips purse and his eyes shift around to take in all of Jensen’s face. 

There’s that quick shift in Jensen’s brain, from the cozy amber-tinted memories to the icy blue of the present. The room is cold, too, white all over, and his senses all come to him in a series of beeps and mechanical _whooshes_ with the sterile smell of this hospital room. 

“Jen?” he hears on a whisper and the feel of Jared grounds him. 

He remembers falling in the bathroom, smacking his head on the sink, and his father’s shout. And now he’s in a hospital, which flashes him back to visions of a hundred-plus months spent in assisted living. But then he sets his hand over Jared’s and presses it to his face to feel all of that glorious warmth seep into his skin. “Jared,” he whispers through the sleepy fog.

“Hey, you.” His eyes are wide and wild, disbelieving, and his lips remain a fine line straight across his face. “You okay?”

“I was dreaming,” Jensen breathes out. When he remembers the soft dream, he’s beaming so hard his cheeks are hot and tight. Threading his fingers with Jared’s, he kisses Jared’s palm. “From my mom’s party, when we …”

Words fail him and his throat closes up when there’s the cool press of metal against his fingers. He blinks through the blur of Jared’s hand just three inches in front of him and when his vision clears, there it is. A gold band, solid and thick on his ring finger.

“Jensen,” Jared says, deep and heavy, so unlike the young post-grad Jensen knows and loves. 

_Knew and loved_ , he thinks to himself. 

Jensen splays Jared’s hand out, thumbs at the ring and looks at every finger on that large hand to be sure this is what he’s seeing. “What … what is this?” he asks, dumbly, because he knows exactly what it is. He so wishes he didn’t. 

“I can explain,” Jared insists. He pulls his hand away and shuffles into the chair at Jensen’s bedside. 

On a strangled whisper, Jensen says, “You’re married. That explains enough.”

“Jen-”

He nearly laughs, delirious with the misery filling his veins. “When did you ...?”

“When did we get married?” Jared asks and Jensen does his best to keep derision out of his voice because how can that question not be so obvious. 

“Were you wearing a ring the whole time? And I never noticed?” He’s certain it would have screamed at him, because it’s far too bright and obvious now. So, Jared never wore it before, but he sure as hell is wearing it now. The room tilts and his breath catches deep in his chest, the heart monitor overhead beeping a little faster. 

Jared looks up to the screen, panicked. Well, more panicked than he already is at having to explain himself. 

Jensen can’t feel bad about it, because everything is going sideways. “How could I not notice?” He’s fitful in this slim bed and he wishes he could jump up, pace around, get himself into a better position than lying prone while being ripped open with this news. “Jesus Christ, you’re _married_. To _someone else_.”

With his elbows on his knees, Jared drags his palms over his face, suddenly so weary and afraid. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jensen begs, and really, that’s where a good majority of the pain comes from. They’ve spent time together since Jensen came out of the coma and there hasn’t been a single inkling to this. 

Jared’s distance with Jensen back, fully awake, had seemed to be more of an emotional conflict to reconcile the present with the past. Now, Jensen sees it clearly and he has to look away from Jared, where the gold band damn near sparkles under the fluorescent lights. As if now that Jensen knows, it’s all there is, a searing flare on a dark sky. 

The monitor beeps loud and fast and Jensen can feel it deep beneath his ribs. He knows his heart is racing a mile a minute while it shatters into a thousand shards of glass cutting up his insides.

“I’m so sorry,” Jared whispers, mouth hidden behind his fingers. It seems like he spots the bright glare of the ring as well, because he moves his hands to cover that finger. “I didn’t even think … I just ran over here once I heard.”

All the petulance of Jensen’s youth crashes overhead and he turns away, mutters, “Thought you hated gold, anyway.”

Jared’s eye roll is obvious in his voice when he complains, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make this my fault and take it out on me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jensen glares at him. “I’m not the one who up and got married!”

“You were gone and I -”

“I wasn’t dead!”

“You were _gone_ ,” Jared repeats with terse look. His voice is deep and and strained, so unlike the spirited, sentimental boy Jensen fell in love with what felt like just a few years ago. But it’s 13 years and a lifetime ago. 

And a marriage, apparently. 

“I hung around as long as I could, but it was obvious that you weren’t going to wake up.”

“I _did_ wake up,” Jensen grits out between clenched teeth. “I woke up and I asked for you. _Immediately_.”

“I know,” Jared allows with a soft nod. “Your mom called me and -”

“Does my mom know?” Jensen’s head spins and he drops his head deep in the pillows to stare at the ceiling. “Does everyone else know and just never wanted to tell me?”

“I asked them not to. Not until I could figure it out and … I don’t know. Until I could sort everything out. This has been incredibly difficult for me to deal with.”

Jensen snorts, “Yeah, for you.”

Jared stands immediately, chair scraping on the floor ugly and mean, just like this conversation. And he must feel that, too, because he takes a settling breath, runs a hand through his hair, and steps back from the bed. “I’m sorry you found out like this. But I’m not sorry that I had to move on.”

There’s something that remains warm in Jared’s words and Jensen pulls it all together long enough to look at him. The darkness under Jared’s eyes is far more evident than Jensen has allowed himself to see and the beard looks patchy and unkept, like Jared’s been pulling at it in fits of anxiety. He wants to reel Jared in and hold him, kiss him breathless just like last night, and make all of his worries dissolve into nothing but relief and adoration between them. 

But, Jensen now knows he isn’t allowed to do such a thing. There’s someone else out there who’s tasked with loving Jared. 

The thick tension in the room shifts and it’s no longer heated and frenzied, just a thick silence as they look at one another. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Jared murmurs. His eyes go soft, lips curled a little at the ends, and yet there’s a tremor in his cheek that says he’s holding back tearful emotion. “I really am. And I’m glad your fall wasn’t more serious.”

Jensen just barely nods as he fights to keep looking Jared in the eye. Here, now, the most distinct difference between them is Jared’s composure, his ability to face Jensen’s knee-jerk temper with maturity and clear communication. 

They had never fought in dramatic, drag-out arguments, but they sure loved to poke at each other and push buttons with plenty of subtle digs laced with sarcasm. Jared, for one, had always been easy to rile up and Jensen had a keen sense of knowing just how far to push before jokes and humor, no matter how obvious, would no longer work. 

Jensen had always thought it had to do with the power of falling in love. Of finding their own character while melding their lives together, full of affection and laughter. 

Now, he’s not sure if it wasn’t just immaturity making them nag one another. If Jared came out the other side of this tragedy with a newfound sense of composure and the full gamut of communication skills to get through any tense situation, then maybe he’s better off without Jensen rebounding to life.

“I’d really like to explain this all when you’re feeling better,” Jared says, gentle and steady, like a promise. 

Dr. Komensky enters with a chart and is already reading his notes, so there’s no possible response. Jensen isn’t so sure he has one, anyway. 

“Good news, bad news!” the doctor proclaims. “It’s nothing more serious than a nasty bump. But I want you to be on watch for a concussion, which means we’ll have to wake you every hour or so to check for vitals. Once that all checks out, you can head back home.”

Jensen sees Jared lagging in the hallway until Dr. Komensky has finished talking and moves on to check Jensen’s blood pressure, temp, and all that. As Jared finally walks away, the heart monitor withers into a muted cadence. 

Dr. Komensky chuckles as he looks at the jagged heart lines on the screen. “A little worried about what was going on, huh? You’ll be fine, Jensen.”

Fine. 

If he says so.


	2. Part 2

[Part 1](https://dugindeep.livejournal.com/466967.html)

 

Jared closes the door and all but falls against it, looking out into the open living and dining rooms. He can see through to the window into the kitchen and off to the left of the wide hallway leading to each of their offices and the guest room. 

When they first found this place, and for the countless times they’ve moved around the lower level, Jared had adored the wide spaces. Now, he feels raw and open with no place to hide. 

“That you?” comes from upstairs and Jared sucks in a harsh breath. 

He pulls off his jacket and hangs it in the coat closet to his right, getting himself into working order to face him. “Yeah, I’m home.”

There’s stomping down the stairs and the jangle of dog tags trailing right behind. Roger, fresh from the shower with damp jet black hair curling around his neck, practically glides through with his smooth gait. 

Jared finds himself thinking of bowlegs and a cowboy walk before he can help it. He’s quickly distracted by Goose, their steele blue Great Dane, marching over for attention and nosing at Jared’s hands and thigh. 

“How’d it go?” Roger asks on his way to the kitchen. 

He wastes time scruffing under Goose’s chin and patting along his back and flank, smiling at the dog’s panting joy to be loved on. 

“Is he okay?”

Jared glances up to Roger leaning against the kitchen doorway, shoulders tense and ankles crossed. A bottle of water rests in his hands, but he isn’t drinking from it. He’s just watching Jared, waiting. 

Always waiting on Jared. Patience for miles in bold juxtaposition to Jensen’s outburst at the hospital. 

“Jare?” Roger prompts.

Jared freezes at the name. Roger has called him that as long as he can remember, but suddenly he’s thinking of other nicknames in Jensen’s voice. Goose mouths at his hand for more attention and Jared shakes himself out of it with a final, long pet along Goose’s snout. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. Just a slip and fall and a concussion. Simple stuff.”

“That’s good,” he replies with a nod and level voice. It’s obvious he’s tiptoeing; he has been since this all started in January. 

Jared can’t blame him when there’s only so much he can manage to share with his husband, walking the fine line of suffocating guilt on all sides. 

He was never good at compartmentalizing, so even when now home, in the place where he exists with Roger and this version of himself, he can’t escape visions of Jensen in hindsight. 

Roger is still watching him closely, so Jared rambles on about his trip to the hospital. “Yeah, it’s good. His dad said he fell in the bathroom right after waking up, so they were worried if he was backsliding in recovery. The doctor came in when I was leaving and it sounds like it wasn’t anything to do with the coma or his overall condition.” 

He moves towards Roger and stops just short of hugging him. There’s a hollowness to his chest and he wants, needs, to feel pressed into an embrace, yet there’s an excess of shame to be doing so while talking about Jensen. 

Instead, he swallows thickly and looks just over Roger’s shoulder to the window above the sink. Rain starts to fall outside, April showers and all that. They’d been out there early this morning for some yard work, hauling in mulch and new shrubs to plant along the patio, when Alan texted that Jensen was being rushed to the hospital.

He couldn’t leave fast enough, only washing his hands, changing his shirt, and leaving with a hurried goodbye. 

Just four hours later and the day has gone from sunny skies and manicured lawns to a haunting grey cloud hovering thick and heavy above.

Roger glances back to where Jared is looking and groans. “I know, more rain. At this rate, the grass’ll die off before we get the sun again. And they’re saying storms all weekend, too.” When there’s no response, he sets his hand to Jared’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Jared thinks about other things dying off and dark storms. Jensen’s heady green eyes flash in his mind and he says, “He knows now. About us.”

Blinking slowly, Roger carefully pulls his words together. “He didn’t before today?”

Jared admits, “I never had the chance to tell him.”

“How’d he take it?” he asks as he brings his hand down to Jared’s.

There’s no missing how Roger’s fingers press into the ring; innocently, he hopes, because he’s not able to add to the mess in his brain to deal with it if it’s intentional. He doesn’t have the capacity the argue if Roger was willing to push at Jared like that.

“Not good,” Jared finally says. “But it’s out there now. I just wish I could stop feeling guilty about it.” The guilt doesn’t stop there … Jared quickly closes his mouth to refrain from admitting to how much has already happened in previous visits with Jensen.

“I don’t think you’ll ever stop feeling guilty.” Roger tugs on his hand a little, squeezes with comfort. This man is too kind. “And that’s okay. It’s all part of the process.”

“The process of life,” Jared grimly chuckles. “All guilt and no play makes Jared a dull boy.”

“Then we’ll get some more play in there. You up for a late lunch?” He twists around to the kitchen and tugs Jared with him and onto the rest of their day. “I took Goose out for a run while you were out and now I’m starving.”

It’s a poor diversion, but food will do for now. Feeding his emotions hasn’t often helped, but that doesn’t mean Jared will give up trying.

 

*

 

When they met six years ago, Jared was a pile of broken pieces. He’d finally drummed up the courage for a support group his therapist had been nudging at him. After so many times of bellowing that no one in his life could possibly imagine the loss of a loved one, not to mention the oblivion of a long-term coma, his therapist suggested he look for a group of folks who understood precisely that. 

And there was Roger. Cool, collected, and comfortable in his skin, even when he’d endured his own loss. He had a year or so on Jared in the timeline of healing, plus helped lead many of the sessions in the VFW hall, where a number of folks commiserated over death and the life that comes after. 

It took at least a year before they went for coffee, Roger biding his time until it was just the two of them, and another few months before anything like dating happened. Hitting his stride of personal restoration, Jared took a good look at himself around his 29th birthday and decided he was ready to settle down. It helped that Roger was the tranquility to Jared’s anxieties brewing just beneath his skin, still never fully forgiving himself, still not quite _over it_. 

But starting over somewhere different, with someone new, had been just the ticket to move beyond it. Especially someone as low-key as Roger, where things were comfortable, fine, status quo. Neither of them rocked the boat and it was easy to get through the day as they moved around one another and built a new life together, both understanding the past still existed, even when they didn’t mention it these days.

Then when Jared received the call from Donna, he was dumped back into the deep end and has been fighting to keep his head above water since that very moment, having to reopen old scars while facing the day with Roger beside him every morning. 

For all that he’s shared in the support group, Roger knows Jensen’s whole story and with an unknown depth of compassion, hadn’t batted an eye when Jared told him the man woke up. He’d insisted, in fact, that Jared visit Jensen to face the remorse harbored all these years and possibly, hopefully, put it all to rest for good. 

Instead, it’s ripped him open from the ribs on down to his shins and he can’t stop the onslaught of dusty memories since looking into Jensen’s eyes, open and bright and _alive_.

He also can’t stop the barrage of guilt eating at him. He’d been suffering headaches, heartburn, a stiff back, among other things, as he held himself rigid and afraid for long days until he had the courage to face Jensen in the daylight. 

And it’s grown more worrisome in the time since, when he’s in this home, with Roger, wearing his wedding ring, and quivering with the fire reignited from holding Jensen in his arms and feeling his mouth on his. With the sense memory of being with Jensen, he’s floating through the in-between of who he was then and the husband he should be today. 

He knows he’s failing both and he’s free-falling through shadows when he tries to find his way up. 

For now, he trips through his day with an extra dose of muted reflection and silently thanks Roger for not asking further. 

 

*

 

Jared reads the texts between second and third period, but shoves his phone back into his bag when students file into the room for the next class. The question sits heavy on his chest through the day as he weighs the offer and its potential consequences.

_Can you meet for coffee and talk?_

It’s from an unknown number, but the follow up _An olive branch, if you will_ and _Mom gave me your number, sorry if that was wrong_ makes it far more known, even when he had vaguely guessed, hoped, it had been Jensen all along.

In the final half of the last class, his honor students are busy with an exam and he looks at each bent head and scribbling hand as if one of them will suddenly pop up and see everything stewing inside. Like one of these seventeen-year-olds will read all his dirty secrets of a lover returning from near-death, falling right back into youthful love, not to mention the kisses he’s been hiding from his husband … and all the guilt of balancing between both of these men without being able to strike an axe and cut one of them out of his life.

Common sense says that should be Jensen, yet Jared equates that to tearing through his chest to yank his heart out. 

Rationality tells him that he has a relationship now to exist in, but he hasn’t exactly been present in much of his life since the accident, if he was being honest with himself. 

The draw is so heady and his vision swims when he pulls his phone out and rereads the texts. His thumbs hover over the screen as he contemplates word choice, then he seizes up when considering what to tell Roger. 

_The truth_ , he assures himself. His husband has been infinitely more understanding these past few weeks than Jared had anticipated and hiding the details a little longer may not be the worst thing. But Roger surely deserves as much of the truth as Jared can give him, and hopefully the man will continue to tolerate this mess until it’s over and they can all move on. 

_Yes I can. What works for you?_ he finally types out, dragging out the moments until he closes his eyes and presses send. 

“No phones in class, Mr. P.”

Jared whips his head up with panic to the face of Sandy, a fresh-faced blonde with a whip-crack sense of humor. The straight A honor student she is, of course she’s done first and giving him a smart attitude. And about phones of all things, because that is the #1 rule on the board, left up there since the first day of the semester. 

Sandy lifts her hands in apology and backs away until she turns to her desk, busying herself with another text book.

The phone buzzes in his hand and he no longer cares about Sandy and her smirk. Jensen has sent him the link to a place out near his parents’ house. 

_3:30 good?_ Jared suggests, then adds, _Last class is over in 20._

Jensen’s reply is a thumbs-up emoji and Jared has no idea why that makes him smile, but it does, heating up from deep in his stomach. 

 

*

 

Jared spots Jensen sipping coffee and sitting along the window of the shop. It’s been a week since Jensen’s stint in the hospital and he’s regained color in his face. Growing ever stronger day by day since he woke up, with a butterfly bandage on his forehead where the sink caught him. The walker takes up space behind him and he’s curled his shoulders in, for weakness or worry, Jared can’t tell.

The little corner spot has acoustic music filtering through and kids camping out with homework and gossip in equal measure. Suddenly, Jared is glad he had to make the half-hour-plus trek out here to avoid running into any of his students closer to home. 

He’s not so glad he read between the lines in texts with Roger that he’d be running out to meet Jensen after school, be late for dinner, don’t wait, and all that. There were no set plans, but it seems Roger had some ideas brewing, and he’d instead head out for the evening and meet up with friends. 

Jared knows that means Roger is giving him space, while taking as much as he can for himself. 

Once Jensen catches him heading to the table, biting his bottom lip to stop a smile, Jared finds himself lost in other things. 

“Thank you for meeting me,” Jensen says immediately, voice tight. When Jared sits across from him at the tiny table, he grabs a second cup on the ledge and passes it over. “I hope it’s still warm.” 

Jared wraps his hands around it and smiles. “It is.”

“And I hope you still take it same way.”

He shrugs a little before taking a sip. “Less with all the caramel these days. Getting older, my stomach tends to rebel more often.”

Jensen forces a tiny laugh, like he’s being kind to the joke. Jared instantly regrets _getting older_. Saying it, and doing it. Without Jensen.

“So how’s the head?” Jared asks before distracting himself with more coffee. 

Jensen motions at his bandage. “Aside from the future scar, I’m good.” He then touches his neck and shrugs. “But hey, it’ll match this one, right?”

The mark there is red and raised, like a thick-sewn seam. Jared can’t fight the feeling that it does little to diminish the powerful beauty of the man.

“So, about the other day …” Clearing his throat, Jensen sits forward with his arms folded on the table, huddled around his coffee. 

Jared finds himself also tucking in against the table, ready for Jensen’s promised olive branch. 

“I didn’t really handle it very well, I know. And I know it wasn’t fair to blame you for it.” Jensen looks up from beneath those dark, infinitely long eyelashes and frowns. “I’m working through it all. Still going to the psychiatrist and we spent the whole session talking about how wrong I was.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jared replies with a subtle head shake. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

“At least before I kissed you,” Jensen grumbles. His eyes widen and he lets out an awkward laugh. “Because now I feel guilty about kissing a married man. And not just once.”

Jared frowns and picks at the top of his coffee cup. He’s comfortable with his own shame, but he’s not keen on Jensen carrying it for him, too. Kissing another man, and most notably _Jensen_ is already fracturing his marriage inch by inch. And he can’t say that’s all on Jensen. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But thank you for acknowledging it. I really appreciate that.”

Jensen sighs and leans further in, keeping his eyes on his cup as he drags it in little circles on the worn-out table. “You said you’d be willing to talk about it, to explain all that’s happened.”

“Yeah, of course. If you want.”

“I’m not sure I really want to, but I kinda feel like I should know.”

Jared takes a long drink to steady himself, because for all that he’s had this irritable guilt to tell Jensen the truth, he dreads saying the words aloud. 

“Dr. Maria thinks it’ll help me understand it all more.” Jensen’s nodding again in understanding, yet still won’t Jared’s eyes. “To deal with it and move on.”

Moving on. Jared has a hell of a lot of experience in trying. There’s a cold thread of fear that it will serve Jensen far better than Jared’s luck of being unable to let go. 

But this is what they both need to keep living. To unload the baggage and walk freely, with no guilt or too-long-held memories weighing them down.

“We’ve been together about five years, got married three years ago.” Jared finds Jensen’s silence painful so he adds, “He’s good. We’re good. It’s just easy.” Jensen glances up and Jared sucks in a breath. “Not that you weren’t. Just that … after a few years of struggling after, after what happened, it’s been nice to have something easy to go home to at night.”

Jensen seems to force himself to ask, “Where did you meet?”

“Funny story,” he chuckles to himself. “He was the leader of a support group. One for bereavement, for people who lost a spouse. We joked it wasn’t meant to be a singles group, but I guess it kinda was.”

“Sounds hilarious,” is Jensen’s flat joke, followed by a lame smile and shrug. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I think it helped that we’d both been through the same thing. And that we were trying to rebuild after something so traumatic.” Jared wraps his hands around his cup, now room temperature. He wonders if he could heat it up with his hands, because he finds himself growing hot and sweating, and he hasn’t even gotten through much of what he imagines Jensen wants to know. “There’s a lot of unsaid understanding between us because of that. Going through the same type of thing.”

Jensen’s eyebrows furrow before asking, “Does he know about … that I’m, you know, back?”

“He does.”

“And that we’ve talked?”

“Like I said, there’s a lot of understanding,” Jared explains kindly, because he has no intentions to paint Roger in a bad light. 

“And you’re happy?”

Jared frowns at the gravelly sound of Jensen’s question, like he fought to get it out. His own voice drops. He’s hoping to tone it down, for Jensen’s sake, while he can hear how it’s a struggle to answer for himself. “Yeah. I’m good. Things are good.”

Jensen tilts his head to assess him then quietly points out, “That doesn’t sound _good_.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jared insists. “Things are … awkward right now. You know, all this,” he motions between them. “He’s trying real hard. I can tell he’s trying and being supportive of it.”

Even quieter, barely heard above the din of the music and patrons around them, Jensen hazards to ask, “And you love each other?”

They stare at one another and somehow the music seems louder than everything around them. Jared’s heart beats harsh and unsteady in his chest as he considers how to answer. He has to credit Jensen with the courage to ask, so he figures he owes him the answer. Coughing slightly, he clears his throat and exhales until there’s no air left inside. All to delay the words. “It’s a different kind of love.”

Jensen doesn’t react. He remains stock still in that chair, hunched over his coffee, and continuing to look right into Jared’s eyes. 

Maybe he didn’t even hear the answer. Or maybe he doesn’t understand what it means. After all, for Jensen, nothing exists beyond 2009 when Jared was his only love. 

“It’s just different,” Jared goes on, breaking eye contact to watch a school bus pull to the corner and let a dozen kids off. Anything to avoid Jensen’s wide, warm green eyes pulling him in. “I care about him a lot and I know he loves me. It was time to settle down and be serious about the future. And he was there and ready to settle down, too.”

“That sounds …” Jensen trails off, losing his thought and drinking instead. 

“It’s nice,” Jared finishes.

“I was going to say convenient.”

Jared looks at him, tipping his head and feeling something nag at the back of his skull. Jensen has a little flick of his eyebrow going on and it yanks at memories of past spats they’d run themselves through. Ones where they would pick at each other with a little too much honesty, before cracking through with a joke to ease them out. 

Maybe it wasn’t the most healthy or mature way to face their problems, but they were ambling through their twenties and it worked. They always came back around to what had brought them together, love and laughter. Not to mention the sex after always allowed them to sink even closer to the ties wound so tight around them.

Jared blushes with that thought then forces himself to blink out of those memories and face the subject in front of them today. 

“So what’s Mr. Nice’s story?” Jensen asks with another flit of his eyebrows.

“Roger. He’s an accountant.”

“His name is Roger?”

“Yeah …” Jared drifts off, cautious.

“What is he, like, sixty?”

“Jensen,” he argues with a roll of his eyes. 

“My dad’s best friend is a Roger.” After a moment, Jensen gives him a sharp look, “You didn’t marry my dad’s best friend, did you?”

Jared laughs despite himself. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” Jensen sighs. “So there’s Roger the accountant and a house in Wheeling. Anything else? Like a golf club membership and black tie cocktail parties? Kids and football practices?”

“No, nothing like that,” he shakes his head. “There is Goose, our Great Dane.”

“You named the dog Goose?”

“Roger named him Goose. He’s a big fan of Top Gun.”

Jensen’s brows are getting a workout, because he lifts them both and smirks. “The volleyball scene, huh?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “He was a Navy airman.” Then complains, “I thought you were going to listen.”

“I am listening,” he insists. A moment later, he says airly, “Hey, remember we were gonna get a dog. One of those big fluffy white ones.”

Hiding a smile behind his cup, Jared says, “A Samoyed.”

“Yeah.” Jensen grins as he looks out the window. “You always said it’d be like petting a cloud.” Suddenly, he fusses with his coffee cup, ashamed and quiet. At least the latter is an accomplishment so they can continue with this mess of a conversation.

Though Jared is grateful that Jensen talks more when Jared grows tired of detailing the stress of his job and teaching at the top performing high school in the state. And after Jared gets up to buy them another round of coffee and the sun is beginning to set into evening, he doesn’t bother stopping any of Jensen’s stories. Even when they’re about the awful state of daytime TV or the latest addition of pork to his diet. 

 

*

 

Roger wakes him with a kiss behind the ear, and his hand slides over Jared’s side and settles low on his belly. 

Jared knows it’s him, isn’t fooled by the long, thin fingers and the hair falling over both their faces when he leans in close. Still, he’s been roused from a dream of Jensen and a sliver of him teeters on the edge to stretch out the fuzzy images still playing in his head. 

“Farmers Market,” Roger whispers with his hand trailing lower. “Or is this a stay in bed kind of morning?”

The coffee had kept Jared up for hours after he got home and he’d finally come to bed around three after spending most of his time grading Friday’s exams in his office. Despite Roger’s claims to meet up with friends, he was home rather early and left Jared to his solitary confinement with a brief goodnight and kiss to the back of his head. He’d considered crashing in the guest room downstairs, but he thought it would be too obvious he was avoiding Roger. 

He eventually climbed the stairs and slipped into bed, struggling to fall asleep as he stared at the ceiling for most of the night. He was wound too tight, muscles aching and mind spinning, and eventually snuck to the bathroom for a sleeping pill to knock him out.

In theory, a stay in bed kind of morning is exactly what Jared needs to catch up on the sleep he missed, but he can’t exactly dismiss his husband in favor of the dreams awaiting him. 

With a groan, Jared turns to his back and forces his eyes open to the sun coming in the wide panel of windows. Just last year, they renovated the bedroom into a tranquil, wide open space. Much like the first floor, natural light brings the morning right to them. Now it’s too bright, too real, to wake in this room with Roger beside him. With Roger sliding in close to kiss. His tongue pushing Jared’s lips apart. 

Jared hums and threads his hand through Roger’s hair, but it’s all wrong. Too thick and wavy, tangling around his fingers unlike someone else’s … Jared lets the kiss linger enough to pass, then he pulls back and forces a smile. “Farmer’s Market sounds good. I’m hungry.”

“Shower?” Roger asks with an eyebrow quirked. 

Still not right; those eyebrows are far too dark and arching too sharply. Still, Jared replies, “Mmm, yeah.” He lets his eyes drop shut and pats Roger’s arm. “Get it started. I’ll join you in a bit.”

But he doesn’t. He drifts off long enough that Roger returns to the bedroom damp and warm, shaking Jared’s foot to wake him again. 

He gets moving and says he’s sorry. But he isn’t. Not really, not when he doesn’t let himself think too much about it.

 

*

 

They meet for coffee again, the next Thursday. Jared tells Roger he’s got some extracurricular meetings and the shame weighs him down until Jensen gets really revved up about the ludicrous case on that morning’s episode of Paternity Court and anything else is forgotten. Jensen goes on a rant that ends with how great it is that they don’t have to worry about appearing on a show like that, but the stories he tells has Jared in tears of laughter. 

“You need better TV,” Jared argues through a giggle.

“Someone needs to _make_ better TV,” Jensen counters.

“There is more to life than court TV.”

“Sure, but then what would I complain about?”

Jared nearly spits coffee everywhere. He’s chuckling as he cleans up the mess around his cup and finds Jensen grinning at him. “That is the most you thing you’ve ever said.”

“Ever?” 

“In all the tomes on Jensen Ross Ackles, I’m sure there is more. But it’s got to be pretty high up there.”

 

“My whole name,” Jensen replies with a smart look. “It must be true then.”

“It must,” Jared agrees with a nod. 

“But it also sounds like a challenge and I accept.”

Biting into his lower lip, Jared tries to stop laughing. No need to encourage Jensen when he’s smug, and yet Jared’s just so happy to be riffing back and forth, like the old days when they wasted time being foolish together. 

Jared thinks this meeting may be foolish. More foolish was when he couldn’t help saying yes when Jensen had texted that he was bored out of his skull and dying for some human interaction. Jensen had also promised no serious talk; he just needed an escape from the apartment, and Jared needed one, too. To avoid being home, staring at all the things that made up his new life, and dreading the inevitable awkward silences when Roger’s home and Jared’s mind is carrying off to other places.

“Don’t even pretend I won’t be able to do it,” Jensen goes on to say, pointing a finger at the table. “You know I’m -”

“Stubborn?” Jared offers with an eyebrow raised. 

He pulls back, looking insulted, though it lasts for only a second before he’s narrowing his eyes and tapping the table. “I was gonna say persistent. But fine, we’ll use your word. That incredibly rude and hurtful word.”

Jared chuckles in between sips of coffee and lets Jensen riff on all the variations of how dogged he is to never give up. 

There’s a load of truth to it when Jared thinks about Jensen waking up after nine years. He starts to think Jensen deserves to babble as much as he wants after lying silent for so long. Like he’s just been waiting to be heard. 

In the far reaches of his brain, Jared is honored to be his audience. 

 

*

 

The coffee shop closes with Jared standing beside Jensen outside. The walker keeps Jensen upright, thought just barely as he seems drained and moves slowly to pull out his phone. 

Jared instantly regrets they’ve stayed this late, if only because it’s worn Jensen out. From the sounds of his recovery, Jensen still isn’t used to being awake this many hours at once. And Jared doesn’t doubt that the excitement of their running conversation kept them both on edge for a bulk of the time. 

When Jensen says Lyft is his plan home, Jared suggests he’ll drive him home. 

Jensen makes a face and goes back to fiddling with the app, which he apparently just downloaded this afternoon to hitch a ride here. “No, I’m fine. And I’m sure you have to get back to _Roger_.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jared argues, a little easy-going whine showing at the end. 

“I didn’t say it like anything.”

Jared can still hear it in Jensen’s voice, the nitpicky little dagger. Instead of whipping himself into a frenzy, he nudges Jensen’s shoulder and shoots back, “You did, and you know it.”

“I plead the fifth.” Then he throws a hand up and complains, “Alright, I give up. Technology these days is impressive, but this is a fucking trap.”

“Just because you can’t figure it out …” Jared smirks when Jensen glares at him. “You want that ride or what?”

“If you insist.”

Jared helps him down the block to the municipal lot where he’d parked his SUV. He sets a hand to Jensen’s back just in case, and the other is poised to reach for his arm whenever the walker catches on a deep sidewalk crack.

“You know, it’s too bad you’re married,” Jensen starts airly. “Because this right here, it’s the shit romance novels are made of.”

It starts slow, but the laugh bubbles up and Jared takes a moment to lean on the handle of the walker. 

“‘Cause I don’t know about you,” Jensen continues with sarcasm in every word, “but I’m thinking this walker would really turn you on if you weren’t already taken.”

Jared smiles at him. “It’s a fine accessory. You’re smooth as ever, Jen.”

Jensen turns to join the laughter. He runs his lower lip through his teeth and grins, too, before sobering up and his sight drops to Jared’s mouth. 

They’re so close, not just in proximity, but Jared thinks something settled emotionally through their casual conversation. Once the mammoth elephant was removed from the room, Jared found himself feeling carefree and eager to just _talk_. 

He didn’t realize he’d nearly forgotten the sound of Jensen’s voice for all these years. It’s a little deeper, pitched more seriously, even when twisting for humor, but it’s the same voice he’d missed so desperately. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t drive me home,” Jensen mumbles, slanting away. 

Jared closes his eyes and stands straight. Dares to run his hand over Jensen’s head and rub at the back of his neck. “I’m not letting you stumble into a Lyft. You’d probably end up smashed against the walker in the backseat.”

“Such a gentleman,” Jensen snorts as he ambles forward.

The radio keeps them company on the ride to the apartment complex. When Jared parks in the circle drive, Jensen calls upstairs for one of his parents to come help, adamant that Jared has done more than enough. 

Jared cuts the engine as they wait and rests his arm over the back of Jensen’s seat, suddenly unable to find the words to part ways. 

Jensen sighs and plays with the door handle, apparently also unable to make the move to leave. “Thank you.” Jensen offers him a quick glance. “For meeting me and all. I know it’s not easy for you.”

“I know it’s not for you either,” Jared replies softly. 

Slowly, carefully, like every word burns on its way out, Jensen says, “You learned how to live without me. I don’t know how to do that.”

Jared drops his hand to Jensen’s shoulder, instantly drawn into the warmth through his sweater. He swallows down the affirmation that anything is possible with time and runs with the truth. Because if he’s not going to be honest with his husband, or even himself, he figures Jensen’s the next best bet. So he admits, “I’m not so sure I ever did.”

Jensen’s shoulder rises in a deep inhale and Jared’s hand goes with it. At this point, he can’t stop touching Jensen and lets his fingers slide to the back of his neck with a gentle sweep of this thumb below Jensen’s ear. 

“What now?” Jensen whispers, brows drawn in. 

Jared shakes his head a little, even as he cups the back of Jensen’s neck and feels himself shift ever so slightly closer. “I wish I knew.” A moment later, he amends, “I mean, I know what I should be doing. But it’s not what I want.”

Jensen blinks slowly; it’s hypnotic in the long silence. “What do you want?”

The tension through his spine goes slack as he thinks about it, prepares to say it. Like he’s relieved to be honest despite all the trouble it’ll bring. “To stop trying so hard to stay away.” As the words drift off his tongue, he feels his face heat up and his lips curl into a crooked smile. Just as working through grief, saying it aloud, to someone who gets it and gets him, is a stunning victory. 

The console holds a barrier between them, but it doesn’t stop Jensen from reaching across it, his palm landing on Jared’s knee. “So long as we’re being honest, I really don’t want you to.” Jensen licks his lips and Jared is drawn forward by the shine of his wet mouth, completely taken by it, especially when it opens and Jensen continues. “I know it’s not right or fair, but I don’t think I can do this without you.” He huffs and shifts a little closer as well, gripping tight to Jared’s thigh. “Dr. Maria would say I can, but hell if I want to.”

Jared dips in closer, his hand cupping the base of Jensen’s skull, when he sees something over Jensen’s shoulder and stops short. 

Here comes Alan from the building and Jared isn’t sure if he’s all that thankful for the interruption. The short-sighted part of him groans as he slides back in his seat, while the more reasonable part recognizes the save. 

Alan gives a short wave when he approaches and Jensen closes himself off instantly while his dad seems to assess the situation inside the vehicle. 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen grumbles. “Fucking buzzkill. Like we’re teenagers again.”

Jared gives him a lopsided smile and runs his hand over Jensen’s head again, a quick movement meant to be casual for Alan’s sake. But he hopes the way he eyes Jensen says more. 

As Alan opens the door for Jensen, they continue to stare at one another, stretching this out for another lifetime. “Can I call you?” Jensen asks. 

It starts with a short movement, then Jared is happily nodding. His face feels like it’s all bright and red with so much emotion dying to burst through as he battles between what’s honorable and what feels impossibly right. “Yeah, please,” he rushes out before this moment lasts much longer with Alan grabbing the walker from the back seat. 

“Heya Jared,” the man says once he’s up front again. He cradles Jensen’s arm on the way to standing. “Thanks for driving him home.”

“Of course,” Jared nods. “Say hi to Donna for me.”

Alan smiles. “Same to Roger.”

It’s said clean and kind, so unlike the fleshy cut to Jared’s gut. Or the jolt to Jensen when Alan looks between them. 

Jared starts up the engine again. At the very least, the noise will cover his heavy sigh. 

The passenger side door slams shut and Jared watches them head to the building. Jensen’s waddling forward with assistance and Jared smiles. Romance be damned, he’ll take Jensen, walker and all.

 

*

 

Roger leaves Sunday night for a work trip back at headquarters in Minneapolis. They’re both somber as they stand in the foyer with the luggage on the floor between them. 

Jared is squashing down relief and comfort that he’ll be on his own for a few days to sort through this whole mess he’s gotten himself into. While Roger knows things have gone sideways since January, he seems reticent to leave, like he wants to stay and talk it out. 

The last thing Jared wants is to talk it out. There are too many words twisting him up and he’s afraid to let any of them out. Afraid when Roger chips away at the dam, it’ll crash over them and Jared isn’t yet prepared to clean that mess up. Not yet. When Roger returns in a few days, sure they can sort it all into nice little boxes to make his husband happy and then they can move on with the packages stacked neatly behind them. 

For now, Jared offers Roger a smile and a standard, “Have a good trip.”

Roger looks him right in the eye and pulls Jared in by the neck. He says, “Be good,” and kisses him, like he has before many other trips.

This time, it sits heavy on Jared’s shoulders with warning. He’s sure Roger knows it, too. 

Jared nods and accepts one more simple kiss to his cheek. As Roger walks out the door, the shape of his lips cools on Jared’s skin quick enough that he doesn’t need to wipe it off. Still, he rubs his fingers over the spot once the door is closed and he’s left in his own sanctuary of peace, alone. 

 

*

 

Over lunch the next day, Jared fiddles with his phone and types a dozen different texts that are immediately erased. 

It’s been just a few days since he saw Jensen, since they both opened up, raw and honest. Jensen asked to call, yet he hasn’t, and Jared isn’t sure how he feels about that. Relieved to not have to hide it from Roger, sure. Disappointed that Jensen may not have really meant it, absolutely. Worse yet, he’s nervous and frantic that he may have missed his last chance with the one great love of his life. 

Angry that even when he knows he was allowed to move on and worked his ass off to get past much of the guilt and pain once he recognized the accident was not his fault, Jensen had to come back and throw his whole world askew. 

He huffs and throws his phone on his desk. The noise echoes loudly in his empty classroom along with the scraping metal legs when he yanks his chair out and drops into the seat. 

Now he’s angry with himself and second guessing every step of his own recovery. Seeking out any kind of companionship with Roger. Settling for someone the exact opposite of Jensen, a face and body that would never trigger buried emotions, and a uncomplicated temperament that allowed Jared to skate on without ever fully facing all that he hides from the world, and himself. Roger’s greatest assets have always been his endurance and sympathy, admirable traits in any human being, but Jared wonders if they didn’t cause more harm than good. 

He knows it was what he needed then, but now … Jared no longer considers what he needs because want is in the driver’s seat these days, constantly steering him right back to Jensen.

Torn up and around, Jared picks up his phone and smacks it against his palm. Faster, harder, making the pain real and present, countering all the misery he’d shoved down for nine years. 

He brings up the contact again and finally forces himself to send a message. 

_Free later?_

Within seconds, those three little dots dance on the screen with Jensen’s message forming. Jared’s resolve is completely gone and his knee bounces as he waits for the reply. 

_I don’t know man. I saw a pretty good preview for Dr. Phil …_

Jared smirks and fires off, _I get it. You’ve got a thing for bald men now._

_The accent ain’t so bad either._

_Sounds like you’ve got a hot date then …_

_The episode is about DNA matches that ruin lives. I’m thinking a married couple finds out they’re brother and sister. Wanna take bets?_

He grins, but his next reply forces a ragged breath. It takes a moment to get himself together with his thumbs shaking over the keyboard. _You’re on. But only if you come over and watch it with me._

There’s a long break of nothing happening on screen. Jared’s heart races and he brings the phone closer, as if that’ll will Jensen to reply.

Three dancing dots start up, disappear, then dance again. They’re gone once more and Jared tosses his phone down, hiding his face in his hands with a rough sigh. 

The phone buzzes and Jared prepares himself for the worst. 

_Will there be popcorn?_

Jared barks out a laugh and pushes the heel of his palm at each eye, drying out the tears threatening to break with his nerves twisting him up. _Are you allowed popcorn?_

_No. But it smells good compared to what I AM allowed to eat_. 

_There could be popcorn_.

_How big is the TV? Because I’ve been real spoiled with a full 27 inches here._

Jared smirks to himself and quickly types out, _You know me, I’ve always said bigger is better._

Suddenly, he wishes he’d called Jensen to hear his side of the conversation. To listen to every snicker and gulp on the other end. 

Jensen replies, _There are TOO MANY emojis to choose from_. A moment later, he adds, _You idiot._

He’s grinning again and types fast before his mind tells him to stop. _TV is 60 inches and the couch is the softest thing you’ll put your ass on._

_How can I say no to that?_

_You don’t_.

The dots flash and stop, two and three times more.

Jared panics that for all the joking, this won’t actually happen and he’s said too much. Then, he’s frozen when Jensen asks, _What about Roger?_

He closes his eyes as his husband’s face comes to mind. It’s shoved away, along with the flare of guilt. _Out of town._

_You sure?_

There’s an ounce of comfort that he’s not lying when he responds, _I’m sure he’s out of town._

Another long silence passes and the bell rings from the hallway. Soon enough, students are trudging through the hallways and a few file into his classroom, yet still no answer from Jensen. He’s standing and shoving the phone back in his bag to greet them with a strained smile.

About five minutes into the lecture, he hears the buzz. It’s another ten until he takes advantage of the class flipping through their next assignment to check the phone. 

_When and where?_

Jared fires off the response and turns back to the students with a satisfied sigh. “So, any questions on the homework?”

 

*

 

The first thing he does after work is stow his ring in the master bathroom, followed by taking Goose out for a few minutes before settling the dog in Roger’s office with bowls of water and food, then closes the door between them. Jared goes through the lower level to straighten up and jumps at the doorbell, even when he knows to expect it. 

He gives Jensen a brief tour of the first floor and watches closely as Jensen looks all around with a strange look on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” Jared asks, pushing his hands into his pants pockets. 

“It’s just …” Jensen glances over his shoulder and back to Jared, setting his mouth in a straight line. 

He knows there’s a comment waiting to be said, but Jensen is holding onto it. “What’s wrong?” he repeats. 

Jensen rests on his walker and Jared hates himself for making him walk all around the place when he’s just starting to get a bit of strength back in his legs. 

“You need to sit down?” Jared asks, moving to grab a nearby dining chair. 

“It’s not you,” Jensen finally says. He frowns a little and glances away. “At least, not like you used to be.”

He can feel it, too, because there are spots wide open on surfaces where pictures should be. Portraits of his life with Roger, ones hidden away for today. 

“Like, anyone could live here.” Jensen shakes his head and tries on a smile. “Not to be rude, I swear. But I guess I was expecting a whole ton of walls showing everything off or something.”

Jared had done just that in their little apartment. Measured out and hung a whole gallery wall with a dozen photos of them together, with family, on trips, in a mix of unforgettable moments that always made them smile to see every day.

“Honestly …” Jared huffs and leans against the dining table, feeling the excitement of having Jensen here wither and deflate him. “I put most of that away.”

Jensen purses his lips and slowly nods. “Because you didn’t want me to see them?”

“No, not that.”

“Like I’d be uncomfortable?” He shakes his head and pushes himself up straight. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“So I wouldn’t be,” Jared admits. He lowers his eyes because he’s not sure how Jensen will respond to his next confession; he’s honestly terrified to say it, though he wants to. “I just wanted to see you and forget about everything else for a little while.”

Jensen seems to think on that then curls his hand around Jared’s elbow, tugs a little, and Jared easily goes to him. “So there’s no Dr. Phil?”

He licks his lips as he moves forward, not even caring the walker gets in the way. He can still reach Jensen, sliding his hand up Jensen’s neck with a playful frown. “And no popcorn.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he agrees. In more ways than one, but he still appreciates the sparkle in Jensen’s eyes. And how those wide green eyes cross as Jared closes in. How Jensen licks his lower lip just before Jared grabs it between his lips. How they both groan once their mouths open and tongues press together, a slick slide so well known from their past. 

It picks up from there with nine years of yearning and grief spiraling together as Jared takes them to the guest room. He does a lot of work to help Jensen walk and undress, and settle on the bed. Jensen is down to underwear, bright white boxer briefs on his thin frame, and instantly pulling at the covers like he has to hide the new shape of him while Jared stands before him, fully clothed. 

“Stop, you’re good,” Jared murmurs, pushing the blankets away. He kisses Jensen’s shoulder while he palms the outside of Jensen’s thigh, pressing and grabbing. 

Jensen’s laugh is shaky. So are his hands when he tries to sit up. “No, I know it’s not, that I’m not-”

Jared gives him a warm smile and a warmer kiss. His hand settles on Jensen’s chest as he looks him right in the eye. Jensen’s eyes are so vibrant and vulnerable and Jared is right there with him. He opens his own heart up and assures him, “You are you. And you are here and alive and breathing, and I don’t care how that is possible.”

“Jay.”

Any hope for composure melts away with that sound, _that name_ , and Jared presses his forehead to Jensen’s. His eyes slide closed as he whispers, “I don’t know how I lived without you.”

Jensen cups Jared’s face and thumbs away the tears. There’s a sniffle of his own, then he tugs Jared in to kiss, hard and frantic.

Jared falls into him then pulls them further down the bed, relishing the feel of Jensen’s warm body beneath his own. He hasn’t taken off any of his own clothes yet, but the sound of their harsh breathing and withered moans drives him forward and there isn’t enough of Jensen to get his hands on. And yet it’s all so overwhelming when he gets a hand beneath Jensen’s back and one under his ass to get the full drag of their bodies together. 

They’re rocking together and moaning into each other’s mouths, and Jared thinks this is heaven. Maybe they both died in that accident and fought through years of searching for one another until they crashed down together to this moment. With Jensen’s arms rung around him, hand buried in Jared’s hair and nails digging into his scalp, and Jared melting into Jensen’s kiss, tasting all of him and those whimpers on his tongue.

Heat sears through Jared’s veins and Jensen’s skin is burning up, and he curses all the layers of clothes between. But he can’t stop. They’re both shaking and he just holds on tight as he fucks against him until Jensen’s seizing and biting at Jared’s mouth. 

Jensen whines against his lips, hand wrenching in Jared’s hair. “Jay, I’m gonna …”

Jared drops his mouth to Jensen’s neck and pants into his skin. Shoves his hips down and grinds in tight until he hears Jensen’s voice falter and feels him quake in his arms. The familiarity of Jensen’s hands sliding up his shirt, palms hot on his back, and the wispy breath in his ear, breaks Jared. He thrusts fast for the final seconds until he’s coming with Jensen’s name a fierce groan yanked from his throat. 

His body is liquid, Jensen’s too, and there’s no knowing where one begins and the other ends as they sink into a soft haze. 

 

*

 

Jared rises on his side and rests his elbow on the pillow and head in his palm. He smiles at Jensen drifting in and out of sleep. The moonlight casts elegant shadows across the bed and Jared steals a long look over the body he hadn’t seen or touched in ages. 

Jensen is leaner, the strength and muscle having thinned out with disuse, but it just makes him appear longer, legs stretching to the end of the bed. And that beautiful bow of his knees, resting open and welcoming, Jared had spent countless hours and days mentally writing odes to them when they were young. He just may start again. 

He runs his palm up Jensen’s chest, impressed it’s smooth as ever. Working his way up, he slides along the edge of Jensen’s trache scar. Even this many months later, it’s dark and crudely healing, but Jared gently smiles as he touches it. It’s another sign of how stubborn Jensen is, fighting through the last nine years. 

Up Jensen’s chin and over his mouth, he plays along the perfect curve of his top lip. He grins when Jensen’s lips curl up, no longer asleep and now fully aware of what Jared’s doing. Maybe he’s even cognizant of how Jared would do this on a regular basis in their slim full bed pushed up against the wall in that tiny apartment on the other side of the city. When Jensen would sleep as late into the morning as possible and Jared, always an early riser, wasted time admiring him. 

The final move, Jared lets his fingertip glide down the bridge of Jensen’s nose and back up again. Just like the rest of him, it’s thinner, skin stretched over bone without the healthy bulk filling him out. But Jared doesn’t care, because this Jensen is softer with his words and with Jared’s heart, and Jared thinks he loves him just a little bit more for it. 

 

*

 

Once the sun breaks through the window, Jared wakes up groggy yet well aware he has to get moving. He slips from the bed, quiet as can be, heads upstairs for a shower and clothes. 

Getting dressed and ready is a torturous chore when all he wants is to slide back into bed and sleep the day away with Jensen next to him. His morning routine is a nightmare of guilt when he’s facing every facet of his life on the heels of what happened down in the guest room. Worse yet is when he grabs his ring out of habit and it’s heavy in his fingers. With his eyes shut, he pockets it until he’s at school. As much as he’s ruining things here at home, he doesn’t need to start gossip about his marriage. 

Goose spends most of Jared’s breakfast jumping around the backyard, and gets a fresh bowl of food before he’s crated in Roger’s office. That’s when Jared returns to the guest room to find Jensen is turned to the wall, body rising and falling with his steady breathing. The cream comforter covers most of him, but his shoulder is free for Jared to touch. Jensen mumbles and pulls the blanket tighter, making Jared grin with foggy morning memories of trying to wake Jensen. 

He kisses Jensen’s shoulder and plants a hand on the other side of him to lean in and see his face, peaceful with sleep. “I have to head out,” he murmurs at his shoulder. “But you can stay.”

That seems to get through and Jensen jolts awake. He clears his throat and lifts his head off the pillow. “I can go.”

Jared runs a hand over Jensen’s head with his heart pounding against his ribs. The words drag out of his mouth, but he’s smiling when they do. “I want you to stay.”

Jensen shifts enough to eye him, blinking through sleepy confusion. 

“You should stay,” Jared nods. “Or come back tonight. Either way, I want you to be here when I get home.”

Eyes fluttering closed, Jensen takes a deep breath and drags his fingers over Jared’s hand on the mattress. “You sure that’s okay?”

Jared pushes through the frosty tremor of what is and isn’t okay. He settles on the white-hot want low in his gut. “It is tonight.”

Jensen runs his hand up Jared’s arm and nods. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Yes, princess.” 

He smiles into the last kiss he leaves on Jensen’s shoulder, and it remains through most of the day.

 

*

 

Classes skate along and Jared stays after for an extra hour to get some work done. Modern American History quizzes need to be graded and he knows once he’s home, with Jensen, nothing else will keep his attention. 

The stack of papers is nearly done when his phone rings and he pauses with his hand over the display. 

_Roger Cell_

He swallows down emotion and answers. “Hey, how’s Minney?”

“You know, no one actually calls it that,” he says without pause. “I’ve tried it, but they’re not fans.”

Jared chuckles and leans back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling. He wills his mind to be as blank as the tiles above. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“Speaking of, what’m I missing back there?”

His throat dries up as he flashes back to Jensen curled up in the blankets this morning. He has to force the words to stay level. “Nothing much. Just wrapping up some grading then I’ll take Goose for a walk when I’m home.”

“He’ll go stir crazy if he doesn’t get his run in.”

“Yeah, he was whining this morning when all he got was a few tennis balls in the yard.”

“My poor guy,” Roger chuckles. “And what about my other guy? What’re you up to tonight?”

He fights through a half dozen lines and they all sound too telling in his mind. With his eyes clenched and jaw tight, he manages to say, “Probably more grading.”

“Maybe you could take Goose for a run. Get you both some fresh air.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Roger stays quiet and Jared winces, having heard how weak his answer was. “Everything okay?”

A couple students race down the hall and Jared sits up. He sees one come running back and wave as they pass, and he smiles when he recognizes Sandy’s laughter. “Yeah, it’s all fine,” he forces out. “A student just came by. I should probably see what they need.”

Jared continues smiling at the empty hallway, thankful for the quick excuse. Even more grateful when Roger gives a quick, “Okay, sure. I’ll be home tomorrow by the time you are. We can talk then.”

“Of course. See you then.”

“Alright. Love you, Jare.”

He winces, but does his best to keep it out of his voice. “Yeah, you, too.”

The call ends and there’s immediate tension at the top of his spine. He kicks his heel against the foot of his chair and stares at the phone, nervous Roger will call right back. Or in an hour, or even four, when he’s in their home with Jensen. Like his husband knows what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours and will make Jared detail everything over the phone to atone for his sins. 

Jared doesn’t even believe in God, but he’s sure he’s on his way to hell when lying comes as easy as breathing. 

 

*

 

The second he’s in the front door, he stops at the sight of Jensen sprawled out on the couch, Goose at his side with his head on Jensen’s lap, and Dr. Phil on the TV. With a little huff, that phone call is long ago history. So is his ring, left behind in the upstairs bath again, and when he comes back downstairs, he’s changed into jeans and t-shirt with no trace of the day on him.

Goose lifts his head once Jared’s close enough for pets. Jared rubs under his neck and shoots Jensen a look. Even when he and Roger went together to the shelter, it was his husband who picked out the Great Dane, named him, and always takes him out for long runs through the neighborhood. 

Sure, Goose loves attention from anything with a pulse, but this still feels like begging for extra trouble.

“I see you met Goose,” Jared says. 

Jensen smiles, a little ashamed. “I felt bad leaving him in the crate all day. We sat out back for lunch and got some sun.”

Jared hums and steps over Jensen’s legs to sit on his other side. Neither dare to disrupt Goose with his head pillowed on Jensen’s thigh again.

“He’s real sweet.” Then a beat, “Maybe I’ll get a dog.”

Jared lifts his brows in shock. “Your parents gonna be okay with that?”

“Probably not. The place isn’t big enough and they already have to take care of me.”

He watches Jensen smooth a hand over Goose’s head and Jared finds himself doing to the same across Jensen’s neck. “All solid points.”

“Once I can get my own place.” Then he gets a serious way about him as he nods. “I’ll get a dog when I move out.”

“It’s a noble goal,” Jared allows. 

Jensen is smug when declares, “The big fluffy white one. And you’ll be jealous.”

“Okay,” he laughs. “If you insist.”

Hours are wasted on the couch in each other’s space while Jensen cycles through more trashy shows than Jared knew existed. Jensen makes it up to him by ordering dinner, another app he fights his way through as advanced technology continues to evade him. Once they’re full and have cleaned up the food containers, Jared leads him back to the guest room. 

This time, he is patient to undress and amused when Jensen’s eyes widen with every piece of clothing removed. 

Jensen sits at the edge of the bed with Jared in front of him, hands sliding across Jared’s chest with fractured noises accompanying his surprise. “Look at you,” he whispers, eyes taking in all of Jared completely bare.

Jared holds Jensen’s face and angles it up as he comes down. “And look at you,” he replies before taking him in a searing kiss.

When he gets Jensen fully naked and stretched out on the bed, he grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table and climbs over his waist. 

Jensen lifts his eyebrows. “You always keep that there?”

“It’s called being prepared,” he replies with a light slap at Jensen’s side. 

With a loud sigh, Jensen pushes his head into the mattress. There’s a scowl forming and Jared leans in to kiss it away. Still, Jensen pulls back to warn him, “Before you get ahead of yourself, you should be prepared for the fact I’m not exactly in great shape here.”

He teases, “You just sit back and I’ll do all the work.”

Jensen sighs again, this time happily with his mouth curling. “Dreams coming true.”

Jared laughs, voice going high as he pushes the tip of a lubed finger against his hole. He works it in slowly and widens his knees for better access. It’s a strain at this angle; he hasn’t done this for a while, usually letting Roger do a lot of the prep, and he feels himself tighten up with that thought. 

He has to shut his eyes against the backdrop of this room, even when he can still imagine the lampshade and canvas art in the corner that they bought together at an estate sale. This is why he never bothered bringing Jensen upstairs. He’d convinced himself it was for Jensen’s own good to not fight the stairs, but Jared knows it was to avoid anything that tied him to his marriage. This room still does that and something clamps around his chest, making breathing rougher and rougher the more he gasps for air. His vision spins when he opens his eyes and he lets out a strangled noise, full of anger and anguish. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jensen runs his hands up Jared’s shoulders with care, brings them back down to his arms. 

Jared falls to his elbows, hair hiding his face as he shifts into himself. Confidence wanes and he loses his grip on any ounce of control he thought he had, because for all that he knows what he wants, he’s scared. Deep down, he’s terrified where this will take him if it isn’t real. If Jensen hasn’t come back whole and wanting, like Jared has been since the moment he saw his eyes open in that hallway. 

If he’s going to face the certainty of breaking up his marriage and tearing away from Roger, he has to to know that Jensen will be going nowhere. That he won’t disappear, fall under and away, and leave Jared empty and broken again. 

Jensen pushes the hair away and holds his face. The look is deep, searching, and Jensen’s brows furrow. He seems to get it, because he pulls him in for a gentle press of their lips together. Murmurs “Jay,” like he knows it’s the magic word to calm Jared’s worries. Then he echoes Jared’s words from the day before with, “I’m here and I’m alive. You are, too.”

The touch of Jensen’s fingers trailing across his neck awakens him. He’s reminded of what this whole mess is for, why he’s dragged them both down this landslide of lies and deceit. 

All these years, Jared has been burning up with phantom touches and words, and he finally has them in the flesh, with Jensen returning to him. To remind himself, remind them both, Jared runs his lips up Jensen’s jaw and lands on his mouth. He dives right into Jensen’s mouth with his tongue plunging deep, and he’s instantly reignited the fire between them. 

No more words are needed. Jared gets the lube again and forces two fingers to stretch himself. He needs nothing more than to have Jensen inside, to be rooted right to him, and be Jensen’s again. There’s no elegance to adding a third finger, just quick and dirty, and then he’s slicking up Jensen’s cock and hovering over it. 

He catches Jensen’s eyes for the long slide down. Those dark, needy eyes keep with him the whole way until Jared is seated to Jensen’s hips. Breathing is tight with how full he is with so little prep. He wouldn’t have it any other way. The very real pain forces out the darkness that’s lingered below the surface since Jensen fell into the coma and left him. But not now, no, he has Jensen grabbing for his hands and lacing their fingers. They’re together, after all this time, and Jared isn’t about to waste any more of it. 

Holding his breath, Jared changes angles and leans forward with their hands pressed together to the mattress on either side of Jensen’s head. He squeezes their fingers and slowly rises up and back down in long, steady strokes. The whole time, he stares right into Jensen’s face and watches him twist and whimper with every tiny hitch of Jared’s hips. 

When Jensen’s panting and moaning, Jared rocks faster and ignores the burn of his thighs in each movement. Now the fire in his legs is a welcome reminder of what this is, who they are, to and for each other, and though this room still reminds him of his husband and what’s at stake, he knows there isn’t space in his heart for it anymore. That muscle and its hurried beat is for Jensen, always has been, and there’s no changing that now. 

Jensen meets him halfway when he murmurs his name, wraps a hand around Jared’s dick, and begs him to come. To come for him, and Jared reminds himself he could never say no to Jensen, not for long. So he joins Jensen’s hand and they stroke him together, quickening with Jared’s frenetic hips trying to draw it out of Jensen, too. It’s a mess of sweat on feverish skin until they break. Jensen first, then they continue fisting Jared until he comes loud and hysterical for having this with Jensen once again. 

He’s delirious for having the chance to reconnect, the both of them rising from their graves. His may have been self-imposed, but he’s not about to second guess his own healing. 

It all settles over him warm and easy with Jensen at his side, like a balm soothing his wounds.

 

*

 

In the middle of the night, Jared shifts onto his back with his arm brushing against Jensen. He tiredly smiles as he rolls over and tucks Jensen in, resting his chin over Jensen’s head. 

Jensen hums and slides closer to burrow into Jared’s chest. “Not morning, is it?”

“Not even close,” he whispers at Jensen’s hair.

“Good.” Jensen inhales sharply and hums again. “‘Cause I don’t wanna move.”

“We’ve got a few hours,” Jared assures him. 

“And then what?”

Swallowing hard, Jared takes his time to think through it all. He knows what he wants to do, what has to be done after taking it this far. Still, it makes him sick to his stomach to work through. 

In a perfect movie, some trash romance, they’d escape in the early hours of dawn and never look back. But Jared knows this isn’t the perfect anything. He learned that a little over nine years ago and has lived it every day since. 

“Well …” Jared doesn’t mean to drag it out; he’s just trying to get used to the reality. “I guess I have to find somewhere to live.”

Jensen flinches back and stares at him. “Are you serious?”

With a lopsided smile, Jared asks, “If you’ll have me?”

The look in Jensen’s eyes says more than enough. He’s shocked, yet cautious and moved all at once.

Jared brushes fingers along Jensen’s temple and down the line of hair running towards his ear. Finally admits, so they both can hear it, “I don’t know how to do anything but love you.”

Jensen slowly nods and sets his arm over Jared’s waist to pull him in tight. “I’ll have you,” he whispers, as if he’s afraid it’ll break if he’s too loud, or too sure. 

“He comes home tonight, but I’m not sure when I’ll …” Wanting to do it and saying it are worlds apart and Jared is thankful when Jensen squeezes him and rests his mouth to Jared’s chest.

“You waited long enough,” Jensen says. “I can handle it.”

Yeah, he can. Jensen was always the stronger one anyway.

 

*

 

For all that waiting has been the essence of the last decade, Jared is far too jittery to let it sit long. Once they’re both home and Roger is unpacking and rattling off details about meetings and numbers Jared never before knew much about, Jared sits at the edge of their bed and stares out the large bank of windows. 

He can see Roger from the corner of his eye, leaning back against the dresser once he’s put his luggage away on the top shelf of the closet. In the long quiet, Roger crosses his arms and tips his head to watch Jared. 

Jared vows to keep his head up, though he’s a coward when it comes to facing him to say, “I have to leave.”

Roger sighs and turns toward the window as well. “Jensen?”

Slowly nodding, Jared otherwise remains quiet. 

“Did something happen?”

Another nod, Jared’s breath catches and his eyes burn. 

“I guess you already left, huh?” Roger pushes off the dresser and steps up to the glass pane. Jared imagines it’s so Roger doesn’t have to look at him. “Since that first call. You’ve been gone since then.”

“I tried,” Jared says, pained and tired. And maybe it’s for himself more than Roger, but he has to get it out. “I really did try to keep it in the past. I didn’t know ...”

Roger looks over his shoulder and Jared finally breaks, tears filling his eyes. 

“I didn’t know I still had all of this inside of me.”

He looks around the room and sighs. “I think we always have it.”

Jared watches Roger’s back shift with tension, shoulders tight and high, and wonders if he’s thinking about his own loss. Only, his lover did die. When Scott closed his eyes, it was for the last time and when he was laid out on a bed of white, it was in a casket lowered into six feet of soil, never to be seen again. 

“If I had one more day with him,” Roger says, quiet, like a secret, “I don’t know what I’d do. But I’m sure I’d feel the same way you do.”

Jared nods even when Roger can’t see it, doesn’t know how the emotion cracks him wide open. “I’m so sorry, I really am. But I can’t stay. It’s just not fair to either-”

“No, yeah, I get it,” he cuts in with a cruel laugh, shocking for Jared to witness after six years of composure. “I hate it, but I get it.” With a harsh sigh, Roger faces him with his lips in a tight line. “Do whatever you need to get your stuff, but it’s probably best if it’s while I’m at work in the next few days.”

Jared thinks about the variety of ways this could have gone down, and while reason and maturity were part of what he’d always cherished about Roger, it’s a nightmare to face when he knows he’s been anything but reasonable these last few months. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t,” he agrees, but there’s a small, sad smile. “And I don’t deserve to be number two, even if I kind of always was.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t fair to you.”

Roger nods with a bit of frown. “I’m keeping Goose.”

“He always loved you best,” Jared offers, a peace offering of sorts. 

“Yeah. _He_ did.”

Jared closes his eyes against the hit, but he knows he deserves it. And a whole lot more. 

He thinks he got off pretty damn easy, even when loving Jensen for the last nine years has been anything but.

 

*

 

Jared packs a bag with the bare essentials to get him through the next few days. There is no plan, but he figures he’ll cobble one together once he’s off and driving in his car. 

He takes just a brief look back at the house before jumping into his SUV and heads out. The radio is low and his mind wanders as he takes the entrance onto the highway and picks up some speed. A hotel will be good to put him up for the night and he’ll need to find a place to stay long term. Maybe somewhere a little further north, a little closer to Jensen, then his mind wanders off to imagine finding an apartment for the both of them. Like the old days, but something nicer, bigger, and definitely with wide doorways and an elevator for the walker. Maybe even a townhouse with office space, a large kitchen they could cook in, and a wide green lawn with the white picket fence.

Despite the heavy weight in his stomach, residuals of the break up, his smile grows the nearer he gets to the apartment complex. He’ll sort out all the big details with Jensen at his side. For now, he just wants to stand in front him and have them both know this is real, that they can continue to grow and heal together. 

The elevator ride is longer than he remembers and further from the apartment, and he’s nearly jogging down to the hallway. He skids to a stop at the door and breathes deeply. Hair gets tucked behind his ears, and he lifts his fist and knocks. 

It takes some time, but then there’s the loud scrape of metal and rubber on the wood floor as Jensen fumbles around inside the apartment, and Jared can’t stop the grin on his face when the door opens. 

In six feet and two inches of freckled glory, Jensen looks all of 26 again with those vividly green eyes and skinny face. The trache scar, walker, and Jensen’s heavy lean on the nearby table tell the dirty truth, but Jared wouldn’t have him any other way. 

“Hey!” Jensen says in surprise. 

“Hey,” Jared breathes out, the stupid grin hurting his cheeks. “So, you wanna get a dog?”


End file.
